The Faraday Case
by XxsupersweetsealedwithakissxX
Summary: A case goes badly wrong and Reid and Morgan are trapped at the mercy of two sexual sadists, Tom and Eric Faraday. Warning this story contains one scene of explicit rape in the first chapter. It has a happy ending though. I swear. Eventually. Pairing is Morgan/Reid. Obviously ;D
1. Chapter 1

The two brothers Eric and Tom Farraday shoved Morgan down the steps into the basement. Reid was handcuffed to the iron frame of a rickety looking bed, sitting on the diseased looking beige mattress, which had stains of blood and other fluids he didn't want to think about. The only light came from a single bulb. There were metal instruments of torture hung decoratively from the mouldy concrete walls, and there was some kind of punk rock music blaring from a stereo.

Eric grinned "what do you think agent Morgan? We tidied up especially for you guys."

Morgan glared at him. "They'll come after you soon you know. The BAU won't quit until you and your sick little puppet of a brother are locked behind bars."

"You hear that Tom?" Eric shouted over the music.

"Hear what brother?"

"The man called you a puppet." He held Morgan's arms as Tom undid his handcuffs and locked them round the opposite bedpost.

"How rude of him Eric!"

"I concur! He says his FBI buddies are going to put us behind bars! I think that's an awfully odd way of treating your kind hosts wouldn't you say?"

"Oh certainly brother. We should teach them a lesson in manners!"

"What a good idea!" Eric caressed his younger brother's face and kissed him in a way that was somehow affectionate and monstrous at the same time, and made Morgan want to throw up. This was the first time he'd encountered incest between a sibling killing partnership, though he supposed it made a twisted logical kind of sense. They were the classic dominant-submissive pair, Eric the charismatic, ruthless, narcissistic, impulsive rage killer, Tom the intelligent but socially incompetent, dependent partner. Eric wanted complete control and power over everyone including his impressionable gay younger brother, being the only one to satisfy his sexual needs would only extend his feeling of power, while Tom would do anything to please him. The fact that Eric flaunted their relationship showed that he was proud, wanted to show them that power. Or possibly just wanted to provoke them.

Morgan looked at Reid. The kid was awake but looked pretty out of it and there were brutal purple puncture wounds on the veins on his arm like they'd been drugging him. He'd been kept down here for longer than Morgan deprived of food and other basic necessities. His normally soft light brown hair was dark and unwashed, matted and falling down over his eyes. He coughed alarmingly at regular intervals and was shivering. Morgan tried to give him a look that said it would be okay, that he would fix this, and Reid nodded slightly.

Eric pushed his shorter brother away flirtatiously and said "Enough. It's time to get started." Tom nodded and hurried back up the stairs. When he came back he was holding a video camera and tripod. And a gun.

Morgan's heart sank. He didn't want to know what sick fantasy these twisted young men wanted to play out. Unfortunately his worst fears were realised when at a nod from Eric who was setting up the camera, Tom started stripping Reid's clothes off gleefully, breathing heavily like an excited warthog. Reid snapped out of his daze and started to struggle, panic across his face.

"No! No! Please! Don't do this!" he begged softly.

It was excruciating to watch. Reid knew perfectly well that he was dealing with sexual sadists, and that begging for mercy would only play into their fantasy. But he was a very private person, and now he was being stripped of that privacy in front of a colleague and two strangers and it must seem like his worst nightmare was coming true.

Reid went through life persistently ignoring anything remotely sexual. He was aware of its existence of course, was an expert on the biological mechanisms and the psychological drives behind it. He had to be to understand the sexually motivated criminals. He had dealt with that side of the job by studying it like zoologist studies a dangerous animal. Calculating and reducing it down to a manageable concept.

But if any of the team chatted about their steamy encounters over coffee, he would suddenly remember some urgent paperwork he had to do, if anyone, not naming names… (Garcia) made a juvenile innuendo while they were talking in the office, Reid would suddenly have an uncontrollable need to reorganise his files. He had never pursued dating other than that one time with JJ of which the lack of scandalous details had disappointed them all, and he never returned the calls from that model chick who had taken a liking to him while he was guarding her. Socially he seemed resolutely fixed in a perpetual state of pre-pubescence in which sex was a mere shadow of uncertainty in an otherwise logical world.

He'd unconsciously been profiling Reid for some time, Morgan realised with guilt. He hadn't meant to. They did make that promise not to do it to each other. But he couldn't help himself sometimes. Especially since the ideas of Reid and sex kind of blurred in his mind no matter how many times he told himself the kid was off limits.

Morgan yanked at his handcuffs until they broke the skin around his wrists but it didn't help. "Get off him you creep!" he yelled furiously. The brothers just laughed and Tom tugged off the rest of Reid's clothes leaving only his boxers.

"Enough brother! You don't get to touch him yet." Tom drew back obediently.

Eric swaggered over to the bed and looked down at Morgan, who was trying not to look at Reid. Eric grabbed Morgan's head and turned it towards Reid. Morgan tried to convey more sympathy, more comfort, more anger at what was being done to him. Reid had his knees drawn up to his chest, and couldn't look him in the eye.

"What do you think agent Morgan? He's a very handsome boy isn't he? He looks a bit _dirty_ to me though doesn't he? What would you like to do to a dirty little boy like him Morgan? Would you like to play a game with him?"

"Leave him alone! I'll do whatever sick game you want, just keep him out of it!"

"Well that's not very nice is it? I'm sure Dr Reid was looking forward to playing a game with you. I think we need to teach you how to play nicely with other boys, isn't that right Dr Reid?"

Reid didn't reply.

"Tell agent Morgan you want him to play with you." Eric's tone changed from playful to serious in a blink, and Tom held the gun up to Reid's temple.

"I want you to play with me Morgan." Reid said in a tiny voice.

"See?" Eric said triumphantly. Tom laughed.

Morgan couldn't take his eyes off the gun. His heart sped up. He was so fixated that it barely registered when Eric started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Get off me!" he yelled and lashed out. His wrists were slick with blood from the handcuffs now.

"Shhh! Morgan please use your indoor voice! My brother is easily startled and we don't want this game to end messily for your friend Dr Reid now do we?"

Eric undid his handcuffs.

"Tell agent Morgan you want to see him naked." Eric commanded Reid.

Reid shut his eyes and cringed as he forced out the words Morgan had longed to hear him say, though under very different circumstances.

"Please…I want…"

"I…I want…" his embarrassment grew with every stuttered syllable.

Morgan looked anxiously at the gun.

"to see you…"

_Just say it Reid. _

"N-naked." The last word was practically a whisper.

"Thank you." Eric said. "Now please get naked for us Mr Morgan. I'm sorry but Dr Reid has asked to see you naked. Those are the rules."

Morgan hesitated before starting to unbutton his shirt. His hands were shaking so bad his fingers seized up around the third.

"Quickly please Mr Morgan."

He gave up and tugged it over his head, scared for Reid even though he knew Tom would probably wouldn't shoot him while they were playing this stupid game. He stepped out of his jeans and underwear until he was naked and standing in front of them defiantly. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him embarrassed. Besides Derek Morgan had no issues on the body confidence front. He was fully aware of the fact that he was built like, as Garcia so poetically described him: a chocolatey Adonis.

The two serial killers looked him up and down appreciatively, like a horse they were looking to buy.

"No wonder our little Dr Reid is hot for him, would you just look at that! What do you think that is Tom, eight, nine inches?" Eric pretended to fan himself.

"Yours is bigger brother." Tom smirked. Eric blew him a kiss. They made Morgan's skin crawl.

"Now we've got better acquainted, I think it's time to start the game, don't you?"

"You're not…?" Morgan said confused.

"Joining you? No no what do you take us for? We're not animals! We're merely going to be observing and…directing." Morgan suddenly remembered the camera and realised what they wanted them to do.

"No." he said. "NO!" he took a step forward, intending to punch Eric but Tom fired a gun shot at the ceiling which made them all jump, startled.

"TOM! ARE YOU INSANE? WE'RE IN A CONCRETE CELL, WHAT IF IT HAD RICOCHED? CONTROL YOURSELF PLEASE" Eric yelled. "GIVE ME THAT." Tom handed over the gun guiltily.

Eric pointed it at Morgan this time.

"Dr Reid, you go first, what would you like Mr Morgan to do to you?"

Reid looked at Morgan uncertainly.

"Come on! Use your imagination or this game won't be any fun!" Reid still didn't respond. "Oh did I forget to mention there's a time limit to this game? 10, 9, 8…"

"Just say anything Reid!" Morgan tried not to snap but his voice still came out sounding harsh. He knew Reid would be even more flustered now.

"K-Kiss me!" Reid blurted out, panicked. He looked at Eric again for approval.

"Awww!" both men said.

"did you hear that Tom? He wants a kiss. Ain't that sweet? Morgan you heard the man. Kiss him!"

"KISS HIM, KISS HIM, KISS HIM!" Tom chanted.

"Shut up Tom you're ruining their moment!"

Morgan's heart fluttered slightly. The thought suddenly snuck into his brain that perhaps deep down he wanted to do what their captors wanted. He immediately felt guilty and ashamed of himself but god he'd wanted to sleep with Reid for as long as they'd worked together. But not like this. He wanted Reid to want it, not to have to fuck him with a gun to his head.

He climbed onto the bed self-consciously and looked into Reid's wide honey brown eyes.

_I know you're scared but we have to do this. _He tried to express what he was thinking. Reid seemed to understand, and nodded weakly.

Morgan decided that he might as well go all out and try to please their captors. He took charge, figuring as it was Reid's first kiss he might at least feel slightly less out of his comfort zone if Morgan dominated and showed him what to do.

He positioned one hand under Reid's jaw, one on the back of his head and tilted his head back for better access, and pushed his tongue into Reid's mouth, trying to forget about the cold metal eye of the gun hovering next to their skulls. He felt Reid give a small startled noise as he experienced the bizarre feeling of tasting someone else's tongue for the first time.

He pushed Reid's shoulders down so he was lying on the mattress, pinned underneath him. Their tongues grappled for space, adams apples bobbing up and down as they gulped each other down. Morgan wished Reid would give him something, some subtle touch to indicate he wasn't completely hating it. But Reid's body language betrayed nothing but fear and confusion. Morgan released his grip on Reid's neck and stroked his chest gently in a way that was meant to be comforting but actually made him tense up even more.

"Alright already!" Eric laughed "let the man breathe Mr Morgan!"

Their mouths separated with a faint sucking noise as the suction was released. Reid was blushing red and panting. Morgan looked down at him worriedly, searching his eyes for feelings of disgust or betrayal. There didn't seem to be any, but Reid was good at hiding his feelings when he wanted to be.

They both looked at Eric.

"Okay Morgan your turn. What do you want to do to Reid?"

"take off his handcuffs."

Eric frowned and pouted.

"That's no fun. Try again. Choose a better one this time or we choose for you."

Morgan looked at Reid, his mind going blank.

"I…I don't know. I don't fucking want any of this you sick motherfuckers!"

"Hmm I may not be a profiler like you guys, but from the way you kiiissed him I think you're liee-ing. But fine. We will decide for you. Tom?"

"Okay Morgan you have to…suck him off."

"No! No Morgan don't!" Reid cried, shaking his head desperately, his voice going high pitched.

Morgan shook his head. "No! Please, look can't you let me do it to you? He doesn't want me to!"

"He's only saying that because he doesn't know if he likes it. You know he'll enjoy himself once you get started. Don't you want to make him feel good?" Eric's voice echoed the sinful thoughts in his own mind.

"I can't."

Eric sighed and lifted the gun back to Reid's head.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH." Morgan yelled.

"Hey! I'll have none of that language. Now get on with it or I might have to start dismantling him. And I'm sure you'll agree that he would look awfully silly without fingers."

Morgan stared at the serial killer's stony grey eyes, trying to work out whether he was serious. Cold dead soulless eyes stared back at him.

"You think it's an empty threat profiler? I'll teach you not to underestimate me. Tom, get me a scalpel." There was no longer a joking edge to his voice.

"I believe you!" Morgan said.

Eric looked at him and smiled. "Too late." He picked up the scalpel. "make a move and I swear to you I'll blow his brains out."

"Please don't hurt him! I'm sorry! I'll do whatever you want!"

"I know you will."

He stabbed the scalpel into the side of Reid's abdomen. Reid didn't make a sound, just bit hard on his lip. Morgan couldn't believe the young man's self-control. It must have been agony. Eric dragged the scalpel across his skin, carving out the words 'Bad Boy' in shallow gashes.

It was the most painful minute of Morgan's entire life.

Eric finally finished and wiped the blood off onto Reid's crumpled shirt, admiring his handiwork. Both brothers seemed transfixed by the blood for a moment as it pooled and trickled down Reid's stomach into his boxers.

"Oh god Reid oh god oh god." Morgan moaned. Eric snapped out of it and pushed Reid's arms down against the bed.

"Do it. Now."

Reid opened his eyes when he felt Morgan's hand on his boxers. "Don't" he shook his head urgently, his eyes filling with tears.

"I'm sorry Reid, I have to." Morgan wanted to die. "just shut your eyes and try not to think about it."

He pulled down his boxers trying not to look but failing. To his surprise Reid was already slightly hard, which explained why he so badly didn't want Morgan to see. He wondered whether Reid had a masochistic streak or if the adrenaline and the drugs had confused the signals his brain was receiving.

Again with the profiling. Like it wasn't enough that he was violating his friend physically.

Morgan stroked the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh and worked his way up so Reid had time to get his head round what was happening. And partly to get his own head round it.

Morgan had known about his sexuality for as long as he could remember but he hadn't acknowledged or acted on it much until recently. He liked to flirt so people seemed to have the impression that he was a ladies man but the truth was he'd been put off sex for a long time by the abuse he'd received as a child. He'd had a few one night stands but he'd never performed oral sex on another man, except for vague memories of doing it to his abuser.

He curled his fingers around Reid's firm, slender cock and kissed it hesitantly, gradually using his tongue more as he got used to the taste of salt and blood which trickled from the wounds. The first time he put his mouth around it Reid shuddered and whimpered. He automatically bent his knees to protect himself, but since Morgan was currently between them and Eric was still holding down his arms Reid couldn't get away. The young man tried to relax his legs but couldn't stop himself doing the same thing again. Morgan could still remember the way it felt when his abuser sucked him off for the first time. Unnatural and intrusive and embarrassing. Dirty and shameful. Wrong.

Except now it was Morgan doing the same thing to Reid. He sucked and stroked and teased with his hands, his tongue, his lips wherever he could, wanting it to be over fast for Reid's sake.

Suddenly he started hearing Reid moan. Stifled and repressed but they were definitely moans. He felt relieved knowing Reid was getting at least some pleasure from this twisted situation, and increased the rate and pressure of his movements.

"Time's up. Stop." Eric said.

"What?" Morgan straightened up, wiping the saliva from around his mouth. "but he hasn't…"

"Dr Reid, back to you."

Reid struggled into sitting position. His eyes were red and his face was streaked with tears. He was cowering like a baby mouse surrounded by hungry cats, desperately trying to avoid eye contact.

"What would you like him to _do_ to you Dr Reid?" Eric snapped, waving the gun.

"I can't…"

"ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION!" Eric yelled.

"Don't yell at him like that!" Morgan yelled. He knew it was a mistake but he couldn't help himself.

Eric clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. They had challenged his authority.

"Tom. They refuse to play. Show them what the forfeit is."

Tom smirked. He turned to Reid and backhanded him across the face.

"Reid!" Morgan yelled.

Reid coughed and spat blood from where Tom's knuckles had cut his lip. He glared up at the man almost defiantly.

God this boy could take pain.

Eric's expression darkened further. "Again." He said.

Tom hit Reid again. "Stupid little bitch!" he shouted in Reid's face when he refused to make a noise. He hit him again and again calling him more disgusting names. Finally Eric shoved Tom out of the way. He trailed his fingers over the bleeding lesions on Reid's face.

"So very brave. Somebody's done this to you before haven't they?"

Reid turned his face away.

Eric struck him on the side of the head with the butt of the pistol so hard Reid couldn't stop himself, and he screamed in pain and shock. It was an awful yelping sound, like a dog being shot in the leg.

Morgan cursed himself inwardly. He felt useless. All the training he'd been through, and he wasn't even chained up but he still couldn't do a damn thing to help his friend, not with that gun in Eric's hand.

Reid probably hated him right now.

"Okay new rules." Eric said looking calmer now order had been restored. "you both do exactly as I say, and if you displease me we will do unpleasant things to you. Do you understand?"

Morgan nodded. He couldn't watch Reid get beaten up anymore.

"Okey dokey." Eric smiled. "Get him up."

Morgan helped Reid into sitting position.

"Now Dr Reid, I'm going to ask you a question and you have to answer it honestly, okay? Okay? Nod your head if it's okay."

Reid nodded.

"How did it feel when Morgan touched you like that? Did it feel nice?"

Reid glanced at Morgan and went red, looking mortified.

"Answer the question Dr Reid. Did you like it?"

"Yes. Yes I liked it." Reid mumbled.

_Did he actually…?_ Morgan wondered. _No. Idiot. Of course he did not enjoy getting raped. He's just telling him what they want to hear._

"Great! Then it's super easy for me to decide what you guys are gonna do next. Reid you ought to give something back to Morgan. It'd be rude not to. Why don't you try sucking his cock? I'm sure he'd like that. Wouldn't you like that Morgan?"

"Say yes!" Tom whispered.

Morgan looked at Reid. "Yes." He said apologetically.

"You've got to ask him properly! Here, I'll start you off. Reid, if it's not too much trouble, would you mind sucking on my cock? And then Reid you say 'Sure thing Morgan!'"

Reid seemed to be willing himself to disappear. Morgan tried to say it but he couldn't. He couldn't ask Reid to do something like this as if he was asking to borrow some eggs.

Eric sighed. "Fine. If you wanna be rude about it. But remember the time limit." He started to count down.

Eric handcuffed Morgan then shoved him so he was kneeling on the bed in front of Reid, and Tom yanked Reid up by the arms to get him to kneel facing Morgan.

"I don't want to!" Reid sobbed, pressing his forehead against Morgan's chest.

"Shhh Shh, I know, I know you don't." Morgan whispered comfortingly in his ear, resting the right side of his face against Reid's head in as close to a hug as he could manage without use of his arms.

"Please don't make me do this!" He knew Reid was addressing the serial killers, but it still felt like he was talking to him, and it broke his heart. He started to hate himself, really hate himself.

"Tom, assist Dr Reid please, for a doctor he seems to be having trouble locating the correct part of Mr Morgan's anatomy."

"Please don't watch me." Reid whispered in his ear before his head was forced down.

He was vaguely aware of Eric telling Tom to move the camera to get a close up of Reid going down on him. The rock music was turned up again, and Morgan was grateful for the distraction. Not being able to see Reid was killing him. It wasn't like he had a particular kink for watching, it was just instinctive to want to know what was going on down there.

There was a long pause and then he felt Reid kiss his thigh, mimicking what Morgan had done to him earlier. Oh right. Eidetic memory.

It made Morgan feel sort of funny realising that Reid would have remembered every detail perfectly.

He felt the tickle of Reid's breath on his cock and it nearly drove him insane to know that he was so close. His stomach was in knots with fear and guilt, but god it had been a long time, and he felt himself getting…excited.

The tickling stopped for a second as Reid adjusted to this…development. Morgan felt so ashamed of himself.

Then there was his hand.

And his mouth, and his tongue.

And the realisation that Reid was very very good at this.

Morgan silently praised the lord for eidetic memory. Then felt sick again. But he couldn't help how his body was responding. He was so confused about whether or not he was allowed to enjoy it.

His eyes watered from staring at the wall.

He wanted to touch Reid, stroke his hair, somehow convey the feelings of love and gratefulness.

Because he did.

Love Reid that is. He had for a long time.

But his hands were locked behind his back, and any slim chance they might have had at a normal relationship was gone now. And this was probably the only time he would ever get Reid like this.

Morgan closed his eyes as his body suddenly tensed up and relaxed in the most mind blowing way. His head tilted back and he let out a groan. He wanted to beg Reid to go faster. He bit his lip to stop himself giving the commands.

He wanted the feeling again. He was getting dizzyingly close. It happened again even stronger and his mouth fell open in a gasp.

"Reid…" he breathed.

Suddenly the music was turned off.

"You can stop now Dr Reid."

Morgan had to bite his lip again to stop a frustrated moan. It was a good thing that Eric had allowed Reid to stop. Reid. Reid. Remember Reid doesn't want this. Remember _you_ don't want this.

Reid pulled back, coughing. There was an awful crackling noise in his lungs and he was sweating and shivering like he had a fever.

"He's sick. He needs medical attention." Morgan said weakly. "Please stop this."

"Just one more thing I need you to do." Eric said, stroking Morgan's head soothingly. Morgan wanted to shrug his hand off but balancing with no arms was no easy task and moving his head was a bad idea.

"What?" Morgan said weakly, though he could pretty much guess what Eric was thinking.

"Fuck him."

Morgan shook his head. Eric grinned and gave the gun to Tom, who was staring at Reid with a perverted smile on his horrible face. Eric slid his hands into Tom's pants and started to jerk him off.

"Dr Reid. Tell Mr Morgan you want him to fuck you." He sucked like a leech on his brother's neck between words. Tom's grip on the gun started to shake and his heavy breathing was loud in the quiet room as his Eric moved his hand faster.

Reid hung his head.

"Please…I-I want you to…" his voice broke into a sob. "to…"

"Yes Dr Reid?" said Eric.

"to fuck me."

"Like a dirty whore."

"to…fuck me like a dirty whore." He said quietly.

It was the first time Morgan had ever heard a swearword from the mild-mannered young man. It sounded wrong coming from him, like hearing a young child say it.

"Tell him to lie down on his back." Eric said to Morgan.

"Lie down Reid." Morgan said, as gently as he could.

"Not Reid, Slut."

"Lie down Slut."

Reid obeyed him wordlessly, clutching his wound as he lay down on the mattress. The blood was starting to dry stickily on his stomach.

He was crying again.

"Just do this and then we'll leave you alone." Eric said.

Morgan climbed on top of his friend. Eric undid his handcuffs.

"Please don't do this Morgan. Don't make me do this, I can't do this." Reid started to hyperventilate, shaking his head violently.

_I have to. He'll kill you if I don't. _

Morgan tried to use his profiling techniques. He needed to get into Eric's mindset, identify with him. It was the only way he could get through this without his heart getting ripped apart.

He forced Reid's knees apart.

_I'm a sexual sadist and I want to make this man suffer. I have to control him so I can feel good about myself. He's nothing, a pathetic, disposable, weak kid who is worthy of nothing more than being my fucktoy. _

"Please Morgan! Please I don't want-"

Morgan choked him off midsentence with a rough, dominating kiss. He grabbed a fist full of Reid's hair near the nape of his neck and used it to control his head.

Eric clapped appreciatively at that. "Ooh he's getting aggressive. I like it." Tom made an indignant noise and pulled Eric's hands back down to fondle his crotch. "Carry on." Eric said. He turned the music back on.

Morgan started to touch and finger Reid. He kissed him on the neck to take his mind off the discomfort but it didn't help. Reid grabbed his wrist and tried to pull it away, still begging him over and over with strung-together pleas in his ear. He was grateful once again for the music so he couldn't hear most of what Reid was saying.

He withdrew the finger and grabbed Reid's arms, pinning them above his head. He and Reid were face to face now.

Reid's body went limp. He turned his head away from Morgan and shut his eyes tightly.

Morgan brushed the tears on his cheeks with his thumb and kissed him gently. The only affectionate gesture he could risk. Reid turned his head further away. He was angry and hurt and humiliated and he sure as hell wasn't giving his permission.

He fingered him again. Reid, quite understandably, clenched as was the automatic response to fingers being in places they don't belong.

"He's too tense. This isn't going to work. We at least need some kind of lubricant." He yelled over the music.

Eric cupped his hand to his ear in an 'I can't hear you' mime.

"It hurts more if you fight it." He said into Reid's ear. The younger man only glared at him in response.

Morgan knew he must sound awful and callous telling him to relax when he wasn't the one in pain. But he was genuinely trying to guide Reid through it, using what he remembered all too clearly from his own experiences. He wished he could explain that.

He tried his best to prepare him with his fingers, but he was all too aware of the brothers whining and rutting in the background and was scared of what they'd do if they got bored.

When he penetrated Reid, he nearly came straight away just from the feeling of tight heat, like Reid's body was trying to suck him in. He knew exactly how much it hurt but Reid barely let the pain show. The younger man's entire body was rigid, every muscle straining with the effort of resisting him. His stomach muscles were taut and twitching, the tendons painfully prominent in his neck.

Morgan couldn't wait any longer. He held onto Reid's legs and pumped his hips in, out, in, out, hungrily seeking gratification again and again, Reid squirming in pain at every violent thrust until tears started spilling out the corner of his eyes. It felt like less than a minute passed before he blew his load inside Reid, feeling ashamed and sick. He leant forward and kissed Reid's stomach, riding out the last few spasms of his climax. Reid pushed him off roughly and dragged himself away from him, crying and panting and coughing.

He felt despicable.

There was a sarcastic round of applause from Eric.

"My dear agents, that was quite a thrilling performance." He was sitting on the sofa looking smug, with his pants unzipped and a naked post coital Tom in his lap.

Neither of them replied.

"So Dr Reid, was Morgan the stallion you were hoping for?"

Silence.

"Dr Reid? Are you falling asleep? Answer me, how was Morgan? Rate him out of ten."

Morgan stood up.

"Can we get dressed now?" he asked flatly.

"Sheesh. Fine. I was hoping for a little more romance but whatever." Tom threw them their clothes and pulled on his own.

"So what happens to us now?" Morgan asked.

Eric shrugged. "Well…we've got all the footage we want. Tomorrow I guess we'll kill you."

Morgan's draw dropped. He was speechless with fury. He suddenly saw the gun on the floor a few feet away where the brothers had dropped it while in the throes of passion, and lunged for it but Eric was too quick.

"sleep well Agent Morgan, Dr Reid." The two left.

Suddenly there were shouts and gunshots from above. A few minutes later someone kicked down the door and at that moment Morgan could have kissed Rossi. Then everything became blurry and confused and they were given those shock blankets by a paramedic and Reid couldn't stand so they put him on a gurney and hooked him up to some kind of drip and Morgan stared at his bruises the whole way to the hospital trying to remember which ones were made by Tom and which were his own.

Then when they got to the hospital he lost sight of Reid and he complained but they were separated anyway and the doctor said something about intensive care but Morgan couldn't take any of it in so he let himself be led to another room and a nurse pulled the curtains shut and gave him a morphine drip for his shoulder and he went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up around five am to find a sleeping Garcia in the chair opposite his bed, her mouth open and her hands still clutching knitting needles and a half finished scarf in her lap. He chuckled. She always knitted when she was stressed out.

"Hey, babygirl you been here all night?" He said.

She jerked awake and promptly burst into tears before rushing over to him and crushing him in a painful but comforting hug. "DEREK MORGAN DON'T YOU EVER DO THIS TO ME AGAIN!" she sobbed. "I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN DAYS."

Right on cue the rest of the team started filing in, JJ, Rossi, Hotch and Prentiss. JJ handed him a coffee and a hug, Prentiss also hugged him, and then to his shock HOTCH hugged him. Rossi went for a handshake, to Morgan's relief.

"How're you feeling?" Rossi asked.

"Sore." He winced.

"Well a dislocated shoulder'll do that for you." Rossi laughed.

"I dislocated my shoulder? When?"

"You attacked Eric and had to be pulled off him. They put it back in when you got here but you were sedated so you probably don't remember."

He vaguely remembered that. Eric laughing insanely even as he was handcuffed and being shoved along by Hotch. He blew a kiss at Reid, showing no remorse or shame whatsoever. That was what set him off. He'd never been so angry in his whole life. He'd wanted to snap the killer's neck. And then Eric had whispered in his ear in the moment before Morgan was pulled off.

_It isn't really rape when you want it so much, Is it?_

"Ohh. I'm sorry about that."

"you don't have to apologise." Hotch said. His voice sounded strangely emotional. There was an awkward silence.

"We'll go find the nurse, see if she can up your morphine." Rossi said. They all filtered out leaving him and Hotch.

"How's Reid?" Morgan asked.

Hotch shook his head grimly.

"Physically he's fine. He's got pneumonia and a lot of bruising, and he's going to have to be weaned off the Dilaudid again, but he's not critical. Mentally though…he's in a bad way. He won't talk about what happened, he won't let any of the nurses even _touch_ him. What the hell did they do to him Morgan?"

Morgan shook his head. "let me talk to him."

"I'm not so sure that's a good…"

"please Hotch. I'm the only one who knows what he's going through."

"Alright." Hotch looked at him with his intense profiling stare. "But you both need to make a statement at some point. We have to know exactly what happened if we're going to put them away."

Morgan narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Hotch looked uncomfortable. "Nothing. There's no reason why they shouldn't get exactly what they deserve, I'm just being cautious. Old habits I guess."

Morgan rubbed the back of his head and sighed. A court case was not something he had ever wanted to face again.

"I'm so sorry that this happened to you." Hotch said, his stiff mask of formality cracking slightly.

Morgan blinked. "Not your fault man."

"No, I sent you and Reid to question two suspects with no backup. I'm to blame."

"They were barely suspects. We were just unlucky."

"Still."

"Can you get a nurse to take this thing out of my arm and show me to Reid's room?"

"Sure."

"Sir, we really need you to get back in the bed! We need to do these tests" An exasperated Asian doctor with wire rimmed glasses was saying to Reid when Morgan arrived.

"I don't want any tests." Reid said. He was standing by the window, and had changed out of the hospital gown back into his dirty clothes.

"Sir, please lie down and let the doctor do her job." A young blonde nurse said in a soothing voice, and went to put his hand comfortingly on Reid's shoulder. Reid flinched and glared at him. The nurse turned to the doctor and shrugged.

"What's going on?" Morgan asked.

"Who are you?" asked the doctor.

"A friend. I work with him."

"Well I'm afraid non relatives have to wait outside." She said in an annoying bossy tone.

"No I want him here." Reid said suddenly. The doctor looked as surprised as Morgan.

"Oh." She looked from Morgan to Reid and back with a smirk and raised her eyebrows. "We'll leave you two alone for five minutes then. Maybe you can convince him."

She and the nurse left. Reid turned back to the window, biting the side of his thumbnail.

"I want to go home." he said.

"Yeah I get that. What did they want?"

Reid shrugged.

"Reid." he said again.

Reid mumbled and pointed to something on the bed. It was a small bowl wrapped in plastic, the ones for urine tests.

"Oh." Morgan said gently, understanding. "You know…if you tell them what happened to you they'd probably be more understanding about it."

Reid turned to look at him. His eyes looked red and sore. "No! No one can find out about this Morgan."

"I understand Reid I really do, but telling people makes it easier I promise."

"What like you told everyone about how you were molested?" he snapped.

Morgan gritted his teeth. It was still a very raw nerve to talk about it out loud. "I told you, I regret not telling anyone now. The thought that I let him get away with it for so long…"

"You were just a kid Morgan. I'm a _grown man_! How could I let this happen to me?" his voice broke off into strangled sobbing, which turned into a hacking cough and he turned back to the window.

"I couldn't stop them either Reid!" Morgan felt his own eyes start to water. "They had a gun, there was nothing you could do without one or _both_ of us getting our brains blown out by those psychos." He moved up behind Reid, wanting so much to hug him, but settling for placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Reid tensed but at least didn't push him away.

"We need to tell Hotch the truth at least."

"No!"

"They'll find the tape." Morgan said.

"No they won't." Reid said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"I erased it from their camera when you attacked Eric."

"Reid!" Morgan said, "that tape was evidence against them!"

"they found us tied up in a basement, what more evidence do they need! They only need to know that we were kidnapped, not what they did to us."

"We're surrounded by a team of profilers! They'll figure it out pretty soon if they haven't already."

"Please, don't make me tell them." Reid said quietly.

The phrasing of his words was unsettling. Not 'please don't tell them' but 'please don't make _me_ tell them.' It reminded Morgan of how Eric made Reid say all those things to make him uncomfortable. Either Reid was doing that deliberately to manipulate him, or he unconsciously saw Morgan as an accomplice to Eric.

"Okay." Morgan said finally. "I won't tell them anything."

"Thank you." Reid said, and returned to gnawing on his thumb anxiously.

"Why don't you come and sit down for a while? It'll shut that doctor up at least."

"I can't sit down." Reid gnawed harder.

"What do you mean?"

Reid gave him a look.

"Oh..." Morgan said as he realised the problem. "I'm sorry."

"Just shut up." Reid said bitterly. "I'm fine! I just want to forget about it. Why can't they just let me go home!"

"I'm sorry Dr Reid" the doctor and nurse re-entered the room. "I can't discharge you without giving you a proper physical exam, testing your urine and working out a plan for coming off the drug you were given, Dilaudid was it?" she didn't seem to expect an answer. She looked at the chart and then at the empty urine cup.

"Would you be more comfortable with a male doctor?" she asked hopefully. Reid didn't reply.

"Is the urine test really necessary?" Morgan asked quietly, knowing that every second they continued to talk about it was drawing more attention to Reid. The doctor looked at him with a sour expression.

"Yes." She said.

"…Okay…so can you tell me why that is?"

"It's standard procedure. We need to test that the dehydration and the drugs he was given haven't damaged his kidney function."

Reid snorted.

"I'm sorry sir, do you disagree with my medical opinion?" she said sarcastically.

"Actually yes I do. I have some experience with this particular drug, and the amount I was given wasn't nearly enough to damage my kidneys. I think you're just covering yourself."

"Well I'm very sorry for thinking that graduating four years of medical school and working in medicine for eight years made my opinion worth a little more than yours." She snapped.

"You should be since I got three phDs in less time than it took for you to graduate." Reid replied tiredly.

The doctor was speechless. She muttered something about getting her superior and left the room.

Morgan couldn't help smiling.

"I love it when you do that." He told Reid. He looked surprised.

"It was childish." Reid frowned.

"Nah you've got more patience than I would have if people treated me the way they treat you. You have no idea how satisfying it is to watch you use your superpower on people like her." He laughed.

Reid smiled for the first time since Morgan walked in.

"My superpower? That makes it sound a lot cooler than it is."

Morgan was about to argue when Hotch entered the room and Reid's smile disappeared in a flash.

"Hey Reid, how are you feeling?" Hotch asked, his eyes scanning Reid's body language.

"Fine sir. I'd like to go home now." Reid's voice was clear and cheerful, his facial expression relaxed, giving nothing away. He was good. Too good, too normal. There was no way Hotch wouldn't see through it.

"I understand. But first I need to ask you some questions, is that okay?"

"Sure. Ask away." Reid shrugged.

He started off asking for facts, when they were abducted, how the pair had subdued them with tasers before taking their weapons, how they were kept separately for days, starved, taunted and beaten up repeatedly. Reid answered them pretty well until Hotch's questions turned to the presence of the video camera.

"What were they filming Reid? Did they film you and Morgan?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"They drugged me. I wasn't sure what was happening."

Hotch looked at Morgan. "They didn't drug you. Did you see what they were filming?"

Morgan glanced at Reid. How could he lie to his boss? To the FBI?

But he couldn't bring himself to break whatever trust remained between him and Reid.

"Yeah I think they filmed us for a while. Like filmed each other beating us and stuff. Wasn't the film in there?"

"No. It seems that they erased the tape. Why do you think they did that?" Hotch's gaze turned even more serious.

Morgan's nerves were shredded by the time he replied, "To get rid of the evidence."

Hotch's eyes narrowed and he nodded slowly.

"But that doesn't really make sense when they had 23 other films on their computer system. Why bother to delete one when they knew we'd find those?"

Morgan had no answer.

"Do you know what was on the tapes we found?" Hotch continued, sounding tired and sad.

They both shook their heads.

"I think you do."

Reid looked down. Eventually he spoke, quickly and emotionlessly.

"Young men aged roughly from young teenagers to 25 year olds, of various backgrounds and social classes, beginning with younger boys who were homeless or on drugs, making them easy targets. Then as the unsubs grew in confidence they displayed a strong preference to men in positions of power, law enforcement officers, school teachers, even male students who excelled in academic and sporting areas. The victims were filmed being tortured and humiliated and forced to give sexual favours at gunpoint."

"And FBI agents." said Hotch.

"And FBI agents." Reid agreed.

There was a silence. Hotch looked gutted. He'd obviously been hoping it wasn't true.

"I'm not testifying." Reid said. He started to cough as his breathing quickened.

"The law can't protect you properly unless you tell the truth about what happened."

Reid shook his head. "Please get out. Just GET OUT" he yelled.

Hotch nodded, and he and Morgan left.

"Are you sure we should leave him on his own?" Morgan asked, collapsing onto one of the shabby foam stuffed chairs in an abandoned staff room.

"Yes. At the moment he needs to feel in control again." Hotch sat opposite him.

Morgan nodded. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"He won't testify." Morgan said hopelessly. "We both know Reid, and there is no way in hell he could physically bring himself to talk about anything remotely sexual in front of a jury full of strangers."

"A written statement may be enough. And there are rape tests they can do to prove…"

"That wouldn't help." Morgan shook his head.

"What do you mean?" Hotch asked.

"It wouldn't be their DNA you'd find." Morgan said numbly.

Hotch raised his eyebrows questioningly, but was silent, waiting for him to find the words.

"They made me…made me…I couldn't help it, they were going to shoot him if I didn't!" Morgan could barely get the words out. He covered his face with his hands but he couldn't hide the sobs which shuddered through him.

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

"You weren't responsible Derek. Whatever they told you to do, you were right to do it. In that situation you had to do whatever it took to get you both out alive."

"I raped him Hotch!" Morgan snapped. "I forced him down, and I made him have sex with me! How was that the right thing to do?"

"You weren't the one holding the gun to his head!"

"No I know that! But it still…it felt like…like I was the same as the guy who did it to me."

He still got bile rising in his throat whenever he talked about him, like his body was punishing him for talking. Like it physically wanted to lock the words inside him.

"This is nothing like that! Buford abused you, used the fact that you needed him, trusted him. You were a child!"

"And how is Reid any different? Come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed. He's not like other people. Just being forced to undress damn near killed him."

Hotch hesitated. "It's true that Reid is more private about his sexuality than most people. But he's not naïve. He couldn't be to do this job."

"There's a pretty big difference between being aware of it and actually doing it though."

"Yes, but he's at least expressed some degree of…interest in the past."

"Yeah I know. JJ and that actress chick. But…"

"Reid's level of experience is irrelevant anyway."

"I don't think so."

Hotch was silent for a moment, studying him. He suddenly looked thoughtful.

"Morgan, can I ask you something?"

Morgan nodded.

"Do you have feelings for Reid?"

It was weird to have it said out loud. He'd been so careful never to let what he felt affect his actions. It wasn't easy hiding something this big from a team of profilers. At work he'd had to repress and deny every thought and feeling towards the other man, until he could almost forget about it, like he could force that part of his brain to shut down. He tried to hold it back even when he was home and no one was around, but it was exhausting, and the fantasies and desires he held back flooded through him like water from a broken dam. He'd never even told his work friends that he was gay, figuring it would be easier to hide the fact that he was hot for Reid, if he just stayed in the closet. It made him feel dirty, like he was lying to everyone all the time.

But the way Hotch said it, it didn't sound like an accusation, or like he found it funny. It was just…Hotch all over. Polite and clinical and straight to the point without judgement.

He still couldn't bring himself to actually answer. But his silence in itself was an answer.

Hotch sighed.

"It doesn't make a difference Derek. It really doesn't. I get that you may feel like it complicates things if you think you wanted it to happen on some level. But you were both raped. You would never have chosen to hurt Reid if they hadn't threatened you with a gun, which means you didn't consent any more than Reid did. And that means you were raped. Nothing else matters, not your feelings for Reid, not who initiated or who resisted more. _You. Were. Raped_. This was _not_ your fault."

It was the longest speech Morgan had ever heard him give, and the fact that his stoic, disapproving boss was angry on _his_ behalf was enough to break him all up again, and his tired emotions brought tears back to his eyes, and then Hotch was HUGGING him again which was so insane that he gave up on all attempts to control himself and ended up crying on his boss's shoulder for a good five minutes.

"The rest of the team don't have to know do they?" Morgan said, when he'd regained the power of speech. "I don't think Reid could work with them if they knew."

Hotch didn't reply.

"Hotch! Tell me they don't know!"

"They'll figure it out eventually. And the tapes…"

"Who's seen them?"

"Just me and Rossi. But the rest of the team need to-"

"No they don't! Just transfer them to another case! I'm telling you, we will lose Reid if it they find out."

Hotch sighed. "I know. But I'm not sure the team will be happy to be taken off this case halfway through."

"Just give them some bullshit about conflict of interests. We get blocked by that all the time."

Hotch nodded. "Fine. I'll make some calls. Hopefully I'll get the orders across before Garcia starts analysing the tapes. You should go home."

"No. Not until Reid is discharged as well."

Hotch nodded and got up to leave.

"Hotch?"

"yes?"

"Thanks."

Hotch nodded again. He didn't smile, but that was okay. His emotional capacity was probably drained from giving two hugs in 24 hours.

Morgan went back to Reid's room. He was packing his stuff into a bag.

"They discharged you then?" Morgan said.

"Yeah. I set Rossi on them and they agreed to let me go home with some antibiotics as long as I'm not on my own."

Morgan wanted to offer to stay with him, but he didn't know whether Reid would be comfortable with him spending the night. Besides, Hotch would never let him get away with it anyway, in case it muddied the waters later on in the court case.

"So JJ's gonna stay over at my place tonight." Reid seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

Morgan was gutted. He knew it was stupid and selfish, but the thought of Reid being with JJ made him sick with jealousy. But it wasn't about him. It was about making Reid as comfortable as possible. So he just nodded and said goodnight, and then went back into the empty staffroom, shut the door, and screamed out once in frustration like he was being burned alive. He sank to the floor so he was sitting with his back to the door and slammed his head back against it.

This was it. He would never, ever, ever get to be intimate with Reid. Reid would never return even a fraction of Morgan's affection for him, even platonically. It hurt so much he could hardly breathe. He thought he had it under control, that it was something he could just ignore until it went away. He had known it would always ache slightly, but he never thought he would let it consume him like this.

He now knew exactly what it felt like to have Reid naked and writhing beneath him, Reid's cock in his mouth. Now it would never go away. He couldn't stop the images playing over and over in his head, more detailed than any film or fantasy because he was _there_. Every memory provoked an afterimage of sensations running through his body, making him horny and nauseated in equal measure.

"_Idiot_." He cursed himself. It didn't quite sum up what he felt about himself at that moment, but it made him feel a little better anyway.

"Who's an idiot?" he heard Garcia say from outside the door. He wiped the tears away again and got to his feet, (not an easy task with one arm in a sling). He opened the door.

"No one." He smiled and changed the subject. "Hey do I smell pizza?"

She looked smug and produced two large cardboard boxes from behind her back.

"Oh you read my mind babygirl."

"Wanna take these babies back to my place where we can indulge in a pizza orgy until the sun comes up?"

"Hell yeah I'm starved." He suddenly realised he hadn't eaten for over 24 hours. "Holy shit I'm starved!" he said again, and grabbed one of the boxes, not caring what was on it as long as it was edible. "I'm not gonna survive the journey back to yours until I have digested at least half one of these."

She grinned and they sat down to eat. She chatted to him about nothing in particular, avoiding anything to do with work or the case. He was grateful, but he couldn't join in the conversation much beyond nodding and laughing at what she said. She didn't seem to mind. He realised for the umpteenth time how much he adored Penelope Garcia. Not like Reid. But not less than him either. Just in a different way. Like he'd die before he let either of them get hurt.

Before he knew it he'd eaten his entire extra-large pizza and about a third of hers.

"Oh my god, that is disturbing!" she giggled. "We'd better get you home then." She heaved him to his feet and they left. Reid wasn't in his room either when they passed it on the way out. Garcia tugged his uninjured arm gently.

"He'll be fine." She said comfortingly.

"Yeah." He replied. "Look, I'm guessing Hotch told you to stay with me but I think I'd rather go back to mine."

She smiled sympathetically.

"Okay. That's fine."

The car journey was the longest they'd ever been silent together. Morgan leant his head against the window and watched the city crawling past. He listened to the radio. It helped calm the panic attack he was barely holding back.

She pulled up outside his apartment building. She seemed to choose her words carefully.

"Look, honey, I'm not going to ask what happened to you. I kinda get the feeling you don't want to talk about it. But if you ever do, just call me okay? I don't care if it's at like one in the morning or whatever."

He nodded and got out.

**Just wanted to say a quick hello to the people following this story (: and thank you very much for the kind reviews. *group hug* ^^ **

**It's massively encouraging to know people are enjoying it. I'm not sure how long this will go on for as my plan for it is a little vague, but this is only the beginning. It's going to focus a lot on them trying to move on from it and keep it a secret and their complicated feelings for eachother. It's the darkest story I've ever worked on and after the original kinky enjoyment of the rape scene it became quite difficult to empathise with something so awful. But it's become quite important to me that I do it justice. Somehow I will give them their happy ending I swear ;-;**

**Okay I confess I am actually feeling guilty for making fictional characters get raped on the internet. *facepalm* I'M SO SORRY REID AND MORGAN. **

**What am I doing with my existence.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you hungry? I can order something if you like?" JJ asked, flipping the light switch and taking Reid's overnight bag out of his hands as they entered his house. Reid shook his head.

"Right. Of course…you probably just want to rest. You must be exhausted." She smiled sympathetically.

"I'm fine. I really don't need you to babysit me." Reid said, and took his overnight bag back stubbornly.

"You're sick and you were just kidnapped Reid! Let me look after you." she laughed at him and put her hand on his arm.

He shrugged it off uncomfortably. She looked hurt.

"...Reid?"

"Look, I wish you'd all just stop fussing okay! You and Prentiss trying to mother me all the time is driving me crazy!" he couldn't look her in the eye.

She looked shocked and seemed to debate with herself for a moment before saying,

"We can't help it. Hotch told us not to ask what happened to you and we won't. But we're your friends and we've spent the past few days sick with worry about you and Morgan, and now we can't even know what happened or _why_ we're not allowed to know! You've got to understand that it's hard for us to be shut out like this."

Reid looked at her coldly.

"I'm so sorry it's been so difficult for you."he said sarcastically. "I can't _imagine_ how you must have suffered."

JJ just gaped at him for a second. She had never heard Reid say anything this harsh to anyone before, especially her. He was the gentlest guy in the world. But now there was something scary in his voice, a kind of resentful cruelty. She felt tears come to her eyes.

"I'm…I'm sorry Spence. I wasn't thinking. Of course it's been worse for y-"

"I'll go and put my stuff away." He cut her off, his voice sounding mechanic and bored. He didn't try to reassure her or apologise for his tone like he normally would have. He went upstairs. She went through to his kitchen and started to cry, all the tension and fear and relief from the past week released in quiet sobs. Reid sat at the top of the stairs and listened to her. He felt nothing. Once the thought that he'd made her sad would have killed him, but now it provoked nothing more in him than faint exasperation, like watching a toddler cry because you told it to share its favourite toy. He sighed and leaned his head against the wall, wondering how he could get her to leave.

When she stopped crying and came upstairs he was lying in bed on his side, pretending to be asleep. She came over and tucked him in, kissing him on the forehead like a little kid.

...

Morgan wasn't even trying to sleep. He was lying on his couch in the darkened living room watching Family Guy reruns. He would start to get engrossed, even laughed a couple of times, but then something would remind him of what he'd done and he would cringe in agony as the awfulness of it washed over him again. Not to mention his shoulder was killing him. He'd taken the dose of morphine half an hour ago but it wasn't working.

Normally he was cautious about using drugs. He had seen first-hand growing up what they did to people, to the neighbourhood. He hadn't sacrificed everything to get out of that life only to slip back into it of his own accord. But this was too much, he couldn't handle this, he had no idea how the hell he was meant to come to terms with it. He'd never imagined in his sickest nightmares that life could be this cruel. So he gave in and took a double dose. They were amazing. They were like a filter for all the bad feelings, relaxing him, taking the shoulder pain away completely, and making him feel warm and sleepy. He could understand why Reid got dependent on them. He drifted almost straight to sleep. His shoulder woke him up multiple times, even when he moved into his bed but at least he slept a little, on and off.

He got up around half eleven in the morning and almost took a shower before remembering that he couldn't take off his sling for another day. He debated risking it. He felt grimy, inside and out. He decided against when he realised that if he fell or something the only person he would currently feel able to call for help would be Hotch. And despite the unexpected progress in their relationship he was not keen on the idea of being seen naked again by anyone, let alone his boss.

God that was sad. He needed friends. Like non work friends. He could've sworn he used to have some of those.

He took another double dose and watched TV again, anything to stop him being alone with his own thoughts for too long. He didn't have many hobbies, since work took up almost all his time one way or another, and he was too tired to do anything productive when he got home.

He ended up staying that way all day. He just couldn't find the energy to get up and find something to do, because that meant facing up to things and he wasn't ready for that. People kept calling him, but he ignored them.

...

Reid got up the next morning and ate breakfast and showered and behaved like a human being purely to avoid giving JJ the excuse to stay any longer. Then the moment she left he desperately wanted her back with him. Then he got angry at her for leaving and angry at himself for driving her away. He tried to finish a quantum physics paper he'd started on before he left as a little light reading, but then he found a spelling mistake and hated the author too much to continue.

He went back to bed. He woke up a couple of hours later. He needed the bathroom and he was thirsty and there was a horrible taste in his mouth, but he couldn't be bothered to move. He wanted to go back to sleep and not wake up for hundreds of years, like 'hypersleeps' in science fiction movies. He would wake up, and the bruises would have faded and the Faradays and everyone who knew what they did to him would be long dead. No one would know him so he could start his life again, step out of this beaten, pathetic shell and no one would ever force him to do things he didn't like. He wouldn't bother trying to fit in or being nice to people. He would hate them, look down on their inferior brains and horrible, filthy base instincts. Like a misanthropic superhero vigilante he would rid the world of scum like the Faradays.

He had to cling to the anger. Anger made him powerful. Depression made him weak. Currently depression was winning. And the urge to take Dilaudid again. The doctor gave him a pitiful supply that he was meant to take gradually to wean himself off and avoid withdrawal, but he knew if he took it all at once it would be enough to get him up. If he got out of bed he was scared he'd go straight to a dealer and fuck his life up even more.

One in four. That was it. He'd briefly read a report of an investigation into the psychological effects of male rape, which estimated that 25% of male rape victims committed or attempted suicide by the end of the first year after the event. Only something like 3% even reported it to the police. That was him now. He'd never understood how the victims could let their attacker get away with it. Now he realised exactly why. The thought of anyone knowing terrified him. It would feel like being raped all over again, violated and bitter and ashamed, and he couldn't face people's smug pity. _Poor little Spencer, too weak and girly to defend himself. _The FBI would never take him seriously again. His life wouldn't be worth living.

No. The only way he could see himself getting through this would be if no one else ever found out.

He knew he eventually had to somehow find the strength to stand up on his own and get his life back. But there was something darkly thrilling about the path the drugs coaxed him down. Giving up responsibility, giving up his ambitions and dedicating his whole life to his own pleasure. It could be his turn to be selfish, to fulfil every need and impulse his Id could supply, no matter who he used or climbed over and hurt.

Like the Farraday brothers used him.

Another day passed. He ignored the phone when it rang, just lay in bed staring at the wall.

He cried sometimes, but never for long before he went numb. He went to the bathroom and realised he was still bleeding down there. He felt disgusting. There were handprints of bruises on his skinny arms. He put his own fingers over them and dug them in hard, remembering Eric holding him down.

Then there was the sore swelling on the side of his head from being hit with the pistol, the inside of his nose was crusted with blood and there was a bruise along his cheekbone from where he was punched repeatedly in the face for disobeying.

He pulled his shirt over his head and ran his fingers over the scabbed over letters carved into his abdomen, 'BAD BOY.' It sounded like some kind of stupid gang tattoo. He could never let anyone see him without a shirt on but that was okay. He was never one for taking his shirt off in public anyway and he wouldn't particularly miss swimming. There were more bruises, and teeth marks around bruised nipples where Tom had bitten them through his shirt, taking advantage of the fact that Reid was drugged and only semi-conscious and Eric was at work, the day before they had brought Morgan down to the basement.

It had hurt a lot. He couldn't fight back at all even though he wasn't tied up. He tried to wriggle away when he first felt Tom's hands creeping up his leg, but his movements were uncoordinated, his thoughts were clouded and panicked, his brain obeying the primal instinct to freeze when faced with danger, no matter how much he hated feeling the man's filthy hands on him. Tom had talked to him the whole time, making it sound as if they were lovers, asking Reid how he liked to be touched while he stuck his arm underneath his shirt and touched his nipples, clumsily, exploring him like an over-sexed inappropriate child. Not even Morgan knew about that. And he never would. Reid didn't want to even admit it to himself.

He couldn't bear to look at the injuries on his lower half, the ones left there by Morgan. Not on purpose, he knew. But they brought back a different type of memory, one that confused and scared him even more than the violence. His body responding automatically to stimulation wasn't his fault, he knew that. It was perfectly natural for men to get an erection when the genitals were orally stimulated, even when the situation argued strenuously against it. But he felt humiliated, and betrayed by his body.

He put his shirt back on, sat on the edge of the bath and stuck a needle full of Dilaudid into his median cubital vein, hands shaking. He sat backwards into the bath, his knees hooked over the side. It was cold inside his arm, but then he was okay.

...

"They won't answer their phones. I don't know what to do." Hotch said to Rossi as he handed him a coffee. They were sticking photos for the new case up hectically on the board. They were stretched pretty thin without Morgan and Reid, and neither of them could make head or tail of Reid's instructions for how he did his thing with the map where he found the likely location of the killer by drawing mystical triangles everywhere.

"Have you gone to see them?" Rossi asked. Hotch shook his head.

"I don't know if that's the right thing to do. They're both pretty independent people, and they've both refused to answer their phones. I don't know if my presence will help or just make things worse."

"They need help Hotch."

"Goddammit David don't you think I know that! I know everyone thinks I'm made of stone but I know perfectly well when my colleagues are in trouble!"

"I'm sorry. I'm not criticising, honestly." Rossi put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know how to handle this any more than you do."

"I'm scared I'll do the wrong thing. I'm scared of what this is going to do to them both." he massaged his temples wearily.

"Well we have to do something." Rossi said decisively. "Firstly I think we need to talk to them."

"I planned to check on them both tonight anyway." Hotch agreed.

Rossi paused. "And then I think they need to come back to work. As soon as possible."

Hotch raised his eyebrows. "You think that's wise?"

"I think that they will both be sitting around feeling pretty powerless right now. Maybe catching a few bad guys will remind them of their purpose, allow them to move on. And the one thing I'm certain of is that they need to be around people, and each other."

Hotch nodded.

"That shouldn't be too hard. At Reid's request the incident report was just claiming kidnapping and assault, so it shouldn't be too difficult to bring them back. At my recommendation they probably won't even need a psych assessment."

"Well, make the offer and see what happens." He stuck a pin in his thumb trying to stick the corner of the map up, and cursed. "Good God how does Reid do this triangulation thing? We do not appreciate those boys nearly enough."

...

**Hello again sexy people, just thanking you once again for following and reviewing :) it makes my day, it really does. **

**Sorry this chapter is late and a little bit hectic. Basically I was re-inspired by you lovely reviewers, and decided I could do better and needed to pretty much rewrite this chapter, as the first version was longer and more action based, and had them going back to work almost the very next day, and now I think they need some time to recover first, to sort of pat themselves down and figure out what they want to do. **

**I hope you like it 3**


	4. Chapter 4

Morgan was asleep on the sofa in front of the TV when Hotch rang the doorbell that evening. He somehow knew it was Hotch instinctively from the way the bell seemed to adapt its tone to sound far more solemn than it usually did, as if it felt embarrassed on Morgan's behalf for the horrific state of his apartment, about to be inspected by his boss.

He panicked and shot upright, leading his shoulder to protest violently. He busily set about hiding the signs of his depression; the stack of empty cereal bowls and cookie dough ice-cream cartons on the coffee table, the conspicuously low running morphine bottle, the fact that he seemed to have woken up inadvertently watching 'the jewellery polishing channel' with the curtains drawn.

He then realised he was wearing pyjama bottoms at half seven in the evening, and hadn't shaved in two days, and gave up. It didn't take a profiler to see what a state he was in.

"Come in." he said self-consciously.

"Thanks. How are you feeling?" Hotch asked politely.

"Yeah, fine. You?" He lied, moving a stack of magazines and other debris off the couch and onto the coffee table. Hotch sat down politely, Morgan joined him.

"Good. Yes I'm okay."

"How's Reid?"

"Quiet apparently, but JJ said he seemed to be coping."

Morgan nodded. "So…is this a social call or what?"

"Partly. I also wanted to give you the news that I got the team working on a new case."

"Great. Thanks."

"No problem. I also wanted to see whether you would consider coming back to work."

"When?" Morgan asked, surprised.

"Tomorrow. If it's convenient."

"Hell yeah. I'm going nuts already."

Hotch smiled. At least Morgan thought he did. It was hard to tell. He wondered what the rush was to get him back to work so soon. Usually Hotch was completely anal retentive over making people take sick leave or compassionate leave. They would be short staffed without him and Reid but Hotch and Rossi probably could've handled things.

He came to the conclusion that Hotch probably wanted to keep an eye on him.

"Great. I have the new case files with me now if you want to catch up before tomorrow."

He handed Morgan the file.

"Also, I wanted to give you this." He reached into his pocket and gave Morgan a business card. "It's the number for a counsellor I went to after my divorce. He's separate from the FBI, so you don't need to worry about it going on your record. Things can get sticky when they diagnose PTSD for example. Look at Gideon, he was barely allowed to come back, and he was much more experienced than you."

Morgan looked at it silently.

"Thanks." he said.

Hotch looked surprised.

"I didn't expect you to take that so well."

Morgan gave a half-hearted laugh.

"Neither would I before all this. You would've had to drag me there in chains."

Hotch watched him silently.

"I guess I'm scared now. For real." Morgan's eyes stung. "I don't think I can handle this on my own."

Hotch squeezed his shoulder. "You don't have to." He said.

Morgan nodded wiping his eyes impatiently.

"What about Reid? Is he coming back?"

"I haven't spoken to him yet but knowing him, I'd imagine so."

Morgan looked down.

"He knows you're not to blame." Hotch said calmly.

"I know. I know he does, but he…" Morgan closed his eyes. "If he knew…about me…he might hate me anyway." Hotch opened his mouth to argue but Morgan cut him off, "And _even if_…even if he can forgive me…every time I look at him…and every time he looks at me, I'll remember, and he'll remember and it's gonna drive the both of us crazy, you know?"

Hotch nodded.

"I understand how hard it will be. Really, I do. But I want you both to try anyway. I think this is something you can't run away from, and it'll take time, but if you want to repair your friendship with Reid you have to see him. You need him to help you get through this. And he needs you."

"You think?" Morgan asked doubtfully.

"Yes I do."

"Okay. Well I'll see you tomorrow then."

Hotch stood up and cast a critical eye over his apartment.

"Don't be late. And stop eating ice cream for breakfast, you're a grown man for heaven's sake."

Morgan laughed weakly.

"Sorry boss." He said.

"See you tomorrow." The door closed behind him.

"See you." Morgan said. The quietness of his apartment frightened him so he turned the TV back on.

He glanced at his phone out of habit to see if there were any messages from Reid, though he didn't expect any. Then he suddenly had a thought. What if Hotch was going to Reid's place now? Some instinct told him Reid might need some time to prepare himself. He pressed the call button before he could chicken out. His stomach fluttered as he waited for him to pick up. The first time it went to answerphone but the second time he answered.

"Morgan?"

For a moment Morgan couldn't think about anything other than how much he'd missed this voice. Then his profiler training kicked in and told him the voice was slurred and confused and most likely intoxicated.

"Reid…are you okay? You sound kinda weird."

There was an incoherent groan.

"Reid?"

"yeahhp. I'mff-fine. You?"

"Where are you?"

"Umm…I appear to be in the bath." Reid laughed. "But I'm wearing clothes."

It looked like he had been right to call.

"Okay…look, Hotch came over to ask me to come back to work. Most likely he'll be round to your place in about five minutes to-"

"Ohh god." Reid mumbled, and there was a muffled scrabbling sound as he attempted to remove himself from the bath.

"Are you high Reid?"

"No. There's just…a serious…design flaw…in this tub…"

"Reid? What's going on?"

Reid hung up.

Unbeknown to Morgan, Reid had actually dropped his phone onto the bathroom floor in his panic and the battery had skidded under the sink.

"No no no no no no NO." he muttered, frantically cleaning up all traces of his drug habit from the bathroom and tugging down the sleeves of his navy sweater to cover the needle marks before turning and vomiting into the toilet, clutching the sink for balance. He was sweating and trembling, his hair was a tangled mess and his eyes were bloodshot.

_What the hell was I thinking? How am I going to convince Hotch to let me come back to work when I can hardly stand up? One look at me and he'll probably section me. Perhaps they can find me a nice room with a garden view next to my mother's in the asylum. _

He wiped his mouth and flushed the toilet, taking deep breaths.

Leaning on the wall for balance he made it to the kitchen and drank two and a half glasses of water, combing his hair with his fingers.

There was a knock on the door.

Reid shuffled to the door and let Hotch in.

"Oh hey." He tried to smile. It hurt. Everything hurt. He was confused and tired and disoriented. Why did Hotch have to choose this moment to visit him?

"Good evening Reid. I hope this isn't a bad time."

"Nope, it's fine, I'm just a little tired. Come in. Can I get you anything?"

"No thank you. I just came by to see how you're feeling. Are the antibiotics working yet?"

"Uhh…yeah, actually I think they're really doing the trick now."

He actually had at least remembered to take the antibiotics. There was something about taking a pill, any pill, which held a desperate kind of hope, even though he knew they would only treat the chest infection, on some level he still hoped, however irrationally, that they would miraculously cure all his other problems too. They hadn't of course. But the cough was less painful.

"I'm glad. I wanted to see how you felt about coming back to work tomorrow. Only if you're better of course."

Reid was stunned. Morgan had told him they were being asked back to work but he hadn't quite believed it. It made no sense. He had prepared himself to be forced into at least a month of sick leave.

"Yes! I mean sure, tomorrow. I'll be there. Really? Tomorrow?"

"Yes. If you feel up to it I see no reason for you to be stuck at home. The team misses you, and Morgan too." He looked at Reid carefully.

Just in time, Reid's frazzled brain remembered that he wasn't meant to know Morgan was also coming back to work.

"Morgan's coming back too?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

Reid shrugged.

"I understand it may be too much stress for you to see him again, but I think the best thing you can do right now is to try to get back to normal."

Reid nodded absentmindedly.

"What's happening with the court case?" he asked Hotch.

Hotch hesitated. "The trial's in a couple of weeks, but I've heard Eric's lawyer is talking about filing for it to be delayed because of Eric needing to be hospitalized after Morgan attacked him. They're claiming police brutality. It won't stick in court but it confuses things for long enough for them to work out a strategy."

"A strategy?" Reid started to bite the edges of his fingers anxiously.

"They're clutching at straws most likely. I'd say they're looking at life imprisonment for sure."

Reid nodded. Hotch reached into his pocket and handed him a card with a phone number on it.

"This is the number for a private counsellor I highly recommend."

Reid looked at it doubtfully. "Thanks Hotch, but I'm okay, really."

"No one should have to go through this alone. He'll know the best way to support you."

"How?" Reid snapped, exasperated. "How can he possibly know? Because he read it in some psychology textbook and passed some exams? We both know I'm probably ten times more qualified than he is to do his job!"

"That may be so, but even the most brilliant doctors aren't supposed to self-medicate. You can't treat yourself Reid, because you can't be objective."

"Who says I need treatment? I mean yeah, something really, really bad happened to me, but it's over now. It's done. I just want to be left alone."

"I'm sorry Reid. The last thing I want is to cause you any more pain, but I have to insist. If I hear from him that you haven't made an appointment with him by the end of the week I'm going to suspend you for three months of sick leave."

Reid almost lost it then. He thought Hotch of all people he could trust. But he knew that yelling would only cement Hotch's determination to make him go. He sighed and leaned his head against the door.

"You don't have to talk about what happened if it's too painful. He's not going to force you."

"Thanks for dropping by, but I think I need to go to bed." Reid said coldly.

"Of course. Sorry to keep you up. And don't worry if you're still too tired in the morning. Just come back whenever you're ready."

"Thank you sir. I'll see you tomorrow."

Reid closed the door behind him, and sat down on the floor while he waited for the room to stop tilting.

Was he ready to go back to work? He didn't know. He couldn't think straight, his head hurt so much. But when he considered the alternative of returning to his catatonic state of depression, lying in bed hating the world for days on end, he felt like having a panic attack. Plus, if he kept acting like this people would start to interfere even more. Part of him knew they were doing their best to help him, but it just felt like he was being patronised.

On his hands and knees he crawled into the bathroom and threw up again. He sat there next to the toilet wishing for death while he waited for the sickness to leave. He dozed off with his sweaty forehead against the cold bath until he was woken by the doorbell ringing again. He couldn't face standing up this time.

"Reid are you there?" It was Morgan.

Reid lifted his head and tried to call out but his throat was too dry. He suddenly felt panicked.

There was a loud crash and then Morgan was crouching next to him, rubbing his back and feeling his forehead.

"Did you just break my door down?" Reid mumbled.

"Sorry." Morgan laughed. "I didn't damage it, don't worry. I've had plenty of practise."

Morgan disappeared for a moment and came back with a bottle of water. Reid gulped it down gratefully.

"I think you should probably get some rest."

"I am resting."

"Wouldn't you be a little more comfortable in bed?"

Reid grimaced and shook his head weakly.

"Would you mind if I carried you there?" Morgan asked gently.

Reid shook his head harder. "I'm not a child," he groaned.

Morgan's face fell and he took his hand away from Reid's back.

"You're sick. It doesn't make you any less of a man."

Reid glared at him.

"Quit profiling me. And I'm not sick, I'm in opiate withdrawal."

He pulled himself to his feet and walked slowly to his bedroom, though the effort nearly made him throw up again. Morgan followed behind him. The bed was messy and unmade. Reid took off his jeans but kept his sweater on and lay down and pulled the duvet around himself, shivering.

"Is there anything you need?" Morgan asked.

Reid shook his head. Morgan hesitated then turned to leave. Suddenly scared again, Reid reached out and grabbed his hand. For a moment they just stared at each other.

"Can you sleep in here?" Reid said. He regretted the words before he'd finished saying them, but Morgan didn't seem to question the reason for the request, just said, "Of course." and smiled in a way that for a split second made him feel like everything would be okay. He took his shoes off and lay down carefully on his side next to Reid. Reid suddenly wanted to move closer to him, to fall asleep being held by somebody. But he knew that he could never be ill enough for that to be socially acceptable. Morgan being in the same bed was inappropriate enough.

He surprised himself. He usually never initiated physical intimacy, though he didn't particularly mind it. It got him thinking again about his body's response to the rape. Was Eric right about him? Did he subconsciously want to be abused? Was it partly his own fault?

Involuntarily he groaned and clutched his head as he remembered the way he just lay there underneath Morgan taking it like...what did Eric call him? A dirty whore.

He felt a hand on his arm and turned to face Morgan, about to make up an excuse about a headache, but Morgan spoke first.

"I do that too." He smiled sadly. "Whenever something reminds me of them I clutch my head just like that."

Reid nodded. He looked at Morgan's hand still resting comfortingly on his arm. He put his own hand on top of it and moved it further around him until Morgan got the message and put his arm all the way around him. They shifted closer, Reid rested his head against Morgan's T-shirt, breathing him in.

It made him feel better, but also worse in that it made his brain speed off on a tangent worrying what it meant that he liked being in bed with another man. He also worried about how Morgan interpreted the gesture. Was he just doing it out of pity or guilt? Did he feel lonely too, and just wanted to be close to the other person who knew what he was going through? Or…did he want him, like in a sexual way? He knew Morgan was straight but maybe he was confused by what happened? Many male rape victims felt unsure about their sexual identity after being attacked, especially since he had a history of sexual abuse anyway.

And he _had_ been able to reach an orgasm when they were forced to…but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

He sat up, his pulse racing slightly. Morgan looked at him all concerned.

"You okay?"

There was a silence while Reid tried to think of a way to excuse his erratic behaviour.

"I think…I'm okay now. Thank you. You don't need to stay over." He mumbled uncomfortably.

"It's no trouble."

"Please. I want you to…" he stopped, unable to think of a way to phrase it without sounding harsh.

"Oh. Okay." Morgan frowned. "Call me any time if you need anything."

"Yeah. Thanks." Reid replied despondently. He lay back down and Morgan turned the light off before he left.

Even when returned to solitude Reid couldn't calm the tense knot in his stomach.

**As always, thank you for your reviews (: a few of you seem to want more from Morgan's perspective, which is actually how I originally planned it, but I sort of ended up on Reid. I suppose it depends on who I can empathise with the most at the time I'm writing, and I want to get into both of their heads so I understand their feelings better. But do not fear, your requests have been noted, and I will make the next section more about Morgan. They're both kind of in denial at the moment, and Morgan is holding it together on the outside for Reid's sake at the moment, but they can't keep it up forever. **

**Oh also I'm going away to the countryside for a couple of weeks starting tomorrow. *sarcastic cheer* So no updates until my return. ): **


	5. Chapter 5

Morgan stood at the front doors of the BAU building the next morning, plugged into his iPod. (He was listening to Dreaming of You by The Coral, which had been his favourite song for a while, though the words failed to bring him much comfort anymore) He gripped a Starbucks double espresso in his hand. He probably didn't need the caffeine since he was nervous enough already, but it had been his morning routine for so long that he'd bought it without thinking. Or maybe he'd just unconsciously wanted to put off this moment.

People rushed in and out around him obliviously, maybe worrying about whose turn it was to pick the kids up or about overdue paperwork. Not whether every shadowed alley they walked past hid their attacker, waiting to step out and drag them back into the darkness. Or whether they would ever be able to shower, or eat, or turn out the lights again in their own homes without constantly feeling compelled to check every lock on every window or door. Whether they would ever stop jumping at every noise, keeping a mental note of things which could be used as weapons against an invader in every room just in case. Just in case Eric had broken out of his handcuffs and fought his way out of his maximum security prison, and somehow knew exactly where Morgan lived, and was making noises outside his window every night just to torture him.

It was pathetic really, a man his size, an _FBI agent_ scared of his own shadow. But every night the panic attacks, or whatever they were, seemed to get worse, his door and window checking habits more and more obsessive. The only time he'd felt relaxed was last night lying down next to Reid. Those few minutes when Reid pulled Morgan's arms round him had been the happiest ones since they were attacked. When he was with Reid he felt braver, like if Eric dared show his face he'd quite happily smash his head in with his bare hands.

He didn't know why Reid had asked him to stay. Maybe he was scared, or maybe it was the drugs messing up his head. But whatever he was looking for, Morgan obviously wasn't able to supply it, since Reid had asked him to leave shortly afterwards. That stung, no matter how hard he tried not to take it personally. He felt like he'd failed him again.

After he left Reid's house his feet had taken him to a small church a couple of streets away. The lights were on inside, even though it was pretty late. He hadn't been to church in a while, even though he'd promised himself he'd make time after what happened to Garcia. He pushed open the door. There was an elderly couple at the front, and a teenage girl, and a tramp asleep at the back. They looked round curiously when he came in, and he took a seat on the back pew awkwardly.

He'd joined his hands loosely and rested them on the back of the pew in front of him, asked God over and over, why, why Reid? Why did it have to be Reid? Why was he forced to rape the man he loved of all people? The man with the purest heart he'd ever met, the warmest smile, the most funny, generous, endearingly complicated nature of any human being he'd ever known, not to mention by far the most painfully, superhumanly intelligent. What had this fucking _beautiful man_ ever done to deserve this? What had _he_, Morgan done? They had risked their lives every fucking day to keep people safe and bring murderers, rapists and child molesters to justice.

He knew believing in God was about putting his faith in the fact that he had a plan, and that everyone was part of it. But what purpose could all this suffering serve anyone?

He closed his eyes and prayed for God to answer. But it was no use. He just felt nothing. Like all those times he was dragged to church as a kid and sat among the silent praying adults, trying his best to imitate them and not to fidget, trying to feel the holy connection with God that everybody described. But however hard he tried to concentrate his mind always rushed away on other things, so that he felt it was somehow his fault that it never worked for him, that he must be doing something wrong. Eventually he came to the conclusion that God must hate him for the sins he committed with Carl Buford, for his own emerging sexuality, and it made him feel even more isolated from his family and friends, being rejected by the God they worshipped.

He only realised he'd fallen asleep when the reverend, a short black guy in his fifties with greying hair and a kind smile, gently shook him awake saying he had to lock up the church. Morgan nodded sleepily and apologised. The reverend had asked if he was troubled by something and for a moment Morgan was almost tempted by the idea of trying to explain his insane situation to this man just to see how he would react. Instead he asked,

"Have you ever felt abandoned by God?"

The reverend smiled sadly and said, "Ah. Yes, a few times. When my wife died five years ago I almost left the church, I was so angry. But once I accepted the fact that she was merely waiting for me with God, I realised the foolishness of resenting him for taking her away from me, because she never really left. Do you see?"

Morgan nodded, though several arguments bubbled up in his mind. He'd been brought up to respect members of the church. His grandmother used to slap him round the head when he asked too many questions.

The reverend sensed his doubt.

"Perhaps if you told me what this was about, I could tailor my advice slightly more to help you?"

"I hurt someone. A guy I'm real close to."

"Did you apologise?"

"Yeah."

"Did he accept your apology?"

"He didn't blame me in the first place."

"But you still feel guilty?"

"Yeah." He rubbed his forehead wearily. "And…and I'm scared, all the time. And no matter how much I pray for help, it just feels like I'm talking to an empty room."

"Perhaps that's why we're talking now. He sent you here to ask me instead."

Morgan gave a wry half-smile. "He got any advice for me then?"

"I couldn't say. That's not really how this works." He laughed. "But I would like to remind you that you will always be loved, and that hard times sometimes happen for a reason, to make us stronger or kinder, or more determined to be a better person. For example, if my wife had not died of cancer, the people of my church would not have started a fundraising campaign which over time raised enough to buy a new MRI machine for the Oncology ward of the local hospital, which has saved countless people from sharing the same losses as I did." He laughed again. "Though if I'm brutally honest I would probably smash the damn thing to pieces if it would bring my wife back." He patted Morgan on the shoulder. "We aren't made to be perfect all the time. We can only do our best. If hurting your friend has had this effect on you, you most certainly aren't a bad person."

Morgan smiled and thanked him. What he said made some sense. It made him feel slightly less hopeless anyway, and not so alone. He figured maybe somehow this was meant to make him stronger, or a better profiler?

That night when he got home he went his first night without taking any morphine. But it was hard to summon that strength now he was actually here, about to step back into the building which had sent him into the clutches of the Faradays. He wanted so badly to go back to bed and hide from everything. But he was determined to do this, to prove to himself that what they did to him hadn't changed him, hadn't damaged him.

People were starting to look at him oddly. He took his earphones out and stepped through the doors into the sharp cold air conditioned reception. A couple of people he vaguely recognised smiled and said hello. He smiled back, trying not to show his anxiety. He got into the lift and pressed the button. He wondered what he would face when those doors opened. He wouldn't put it past Garcia to throw him some kind of surprise party, which would most likely give him a heart attack. No. Hotch knew how he would feel about that. He and Rossi would keep her in check.

Then he wondered if Reid was there yet? He didn't think he would be. Judging by the state he was in last night he doubted Reid would be strong enough to show up at all. He wished he'd gone and checked on him this morning after all. He'd looked really ill. But he didn't want to make him feel awkward about the night before, on top of the stresses of coming to work.

The doors opened and he walked into the BAU. It was pretty quiet since he was there quite early. Hotch was there of course, on the phone in his office. Did the man ever leave?

He sat down at his desk and opened the file Hotch had given him. It was a bad one. Not that they were ever good. The body of an eleven year old child, Maria Goldmund had been found mutilated, sexually assaulted and left in a ditch to rot. Garcia had entered the details into their database and connected it to another missing child in the area, a month before. Both girls, both blonde haired blue eyed, both around the same age.

JJ and Prentiss arrived while he was skimming through the details again, though he'd practically memorised them the night before.

"Morning ladies." He grinned, settling back into his role as the confident, easy-going charmer.

They gave rather unprofessional squeals of delight, and promptly attacked him with hugs.

"YOU'RE BACK!" JJ said.

"ALREADY!" Prentiss said. "How on earth did you get Hotch to agree to that?"

"I have no idea. I guess he finally realised how much the team needs me." He smirked as they hit him playfully. "So, this new case, care to fill me in on what we got so far?"

They looked at each other.

"We pretty much only have what's in the file. The trail's gone kinda cold. We can't find anything that links these girls other than age and appearance, and we've yet to establish any distinguishing signature." JJ said regretfully. "We've talked to the families and there's nothing, no shared staff, they went to different schools, no known grudges held against the families."

"You mean we've got to wait until he takes another one." Morgan said grimly.

"Yeah. Sorry, I know this is a real shitty case for you to come back to." Prentiss sighed.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Garcia, which initiated another round of hugging from all three women, and emotional weeping (just Garcia). Rossi came out of his office to see what the noise was about and they were catching up, when suddenly Reid walked through the door and everyone fell silent.

He was dressed immaculately in a white shirt, black tie, brown slacks and waistcoat, his hair was combed back rigidly into its neat side parting, but that didn't hide his tired looking eyes, or the anxiety in the way he was holding himself; looking at the floor, clutching the strap of his satchel with his elbows glued to his side, looking hunched and harassed. The corners of his mouth gave them the barest jerk of a smile, devoid of any warmth. He gave his colleagues a tense nod, looking for all the world like he'd prefer it if nobody acknowledged his existence.

JJ spoke first.

"Hey Spence, great to see you back." She smiled nervously, and went to give him a tentative hug. He didn't pull away, but it was obvious that he wasn't comfortable with it. Morgan felt a flash of triumph. After all, Reid had actually _sought _intimacy with him night before.

The moment the thought entered his mind he despised himself for it. Was he actually _glad_ that his friend was shrinking back in fear from physical affection from his friends?

No, of course not. Just the blonde pretty ones.

_Pathetic._

They were rescued from awkward silence by Hotch, who came out of his office with a grimmer-than-usual expression on his face. They all knew what he was going to say before he'd said it.

"We just got a call from the Ohio police department. Another child matching this description, Lucy Davies was reported missing an hour ago. Let's go."

**Hello again readers (: I am back. Sorry this chapter is a little short and filler-y, but I thought it'd be best to get it uploaded. Next one will be better. And longer. With more Morgan/Reid sexual tension *cough cough* erm... I mean dealing with emotional trauma. ^^ As promised, plenty of Morgan angst! ooh and may I just point out my use of the term 'slacks' instead of 'trousers' when describing what Reid was wearing. Yay for using correct colloquialisms! I sometimes wonder if it's obvious that I'm english from what I write? especially since my other story is set in east london, and when I write while I'm tired sometimes I get the accents mixed up in my head. xD which is interesting. Please continue to tell me what you think, and I will work hard to get this next chapter up! xxx **


	6. Chapter 6

In less than half an hour they were on the plane heading for Ohio; they all knew the statistics for abducted children. There was no time to hang around. Reid took a seat by the window table and Morgan sat opposite him. They still hadn't had a chance to talk yet.

Prentiss came over with the open laptop and set it down on their table so Garcia could see them all through the webcam during the briefing. Hotch began with the details of the latest victim.

"Lucy Davies, twelve years old, went missing on the way to school."

"How do we know she isn't just cutting class?" Prentiss asked.

"Her schoolbag was left by the side of the road we think she was abducted from."

"So the unsub has a car?" Morgan said.

"I think we can safely assume so, yes. Each girl's dump site was far enough from the site of abduction that some sort of vehicle would have been necessary." Hotch took out two photos, one of Maria Goldmund's body, one of the first girl, Viola Jackson. "The established MO so far has included a range of methods of torture. We are definitely dealing with a sexual sadist here, he keeps them for up to a month, bound with rope and gagged while he rapes them repeatedly."

Morgan glanced at Reid, but the young man didn't show any outward signs of distress. He just stared at the pictures bleakly, his hands fidgeting restlessly on the table.

"The final cause of death has been asphyxiation in each case, he uses his hands to give him utter control over their death, so he can look them in the eye when the life leaves them." Prentiss added.

"Okay, when we land we make our base the house of Lucy Davies, try to keep the parents calm, find out everything they know, and wait by the phone in case the unsub contacts them."

"You think he will?" JJ asked.

"Look at the photos, the way they're tied up naked, with their legs spread like that, the way he smashes up their faces. He's going for maximum shock value, not anonymity. He's narcissistic, so there's a strong chance he'll contact the parents or the press pretty soon. JJ I know it's too late to keep the story out of the media, so could you give them a statement saying we have very few leads? I'm worried that if he thinks we're closing in on him he may kill the girl and run. Also, ask them to avoid hurting his self-image or belittling him, or he may do something to her in retaliation. Garcia I want you to widen the boundaries, look for other murders where the victims were tied up and displayed like this, it's possible he's new to the state."

"Yes sir." She saluted them, blew a kiss at Morgan and signed off.

"Why do you think he's just moved here?" Rossi asked.

"I'm not certain he is, but something in his use of dump sites suggests he doesn't know the area well. For example with the first victim, he avoided this whole stretch of mostly empty road here and placed the body in a ditch in a public park, which is a pointless risk. Then, instead of dropping the next body far away from it to conceal his location, the next site he chose was under a rail bridge not two blocks away."

Rossi nodded. "So there could be more victims."

"Let's hope I'm wrong. In the mean-time everyone prepare yourselves and get some rest. It's going to be pretty hectic down there."

The team nodded and all withdrew to their own little corners of the plane, leaving Morgan alone with Reid. The young man wouldn't meet his eye.

"How're you feeling?" Morgan asked finally.

"I'm okay." Reid mumbled.

"Right." He raised an eyebrow. "How're you really feeling?"

"Fragile."

Morgan gently placed his fingers over Reid's writhing hands which belied the rigid mask of serenity he wore. Reid hastily subdued them and finally looked up at him.

"You should be at home resting." Morgan said.

Reid shook his head. "Dilaudid withdrawal symptoms peak between 14 hours and 21 hours. The worst is behind me. A couple of weeks and I'll be back to normal."

Morgan felt the young man's forehead with the back of his hand. It was burning hot and clammy.

"You didn't need to quit cold turkey. You've got to be in agony right now."

"It has to be this way. I can take it."

Morgan wished for the thousandth time that there was something he could do to make Reid feel better.

"Last night…" Reid began. "thanks. For warning me about Hotch."

"No worries man. You'd have done the same for me right?"

"Yeah. It's just…I hate that you had to see me like that. I always promised myself…that no matter how bad it got, I would never be a burden to anyone."

"You aren't." Morgan said matter-of-factly. "I'd do anything to help you, you know that."

"I don't need any help!" Reid snapped.

"Sure. Sure. You're totally all-powerful and invincible. Sorry Superman, I forgot." He laughed. "I'm just saying, _if _Superman ever…you know, needed a break or something from being Superman, I just want him to know that it's cool. Robin has his back."

Reid scoffed. "Robin is _Batman's _sidekick. If you're gonna use superheroes in your metaphors you should at least read a comic book once in a while."

"Woah sorry." He held his hands up mock-defensively. "But maybe Robin moonlights as Superman's sidekick now and then. Would that be okay?" he nudged Reid's foot with his own.

"I suppose." Reid nudged him back, and a short foot war ensued, ending with Morgan pinning both Reid's feet down.

"Pffft. If I hadn't injected myself with kryptonite yesterday I would've totally owned your ass."

_You already own my ass baby boy. _Morgan thought, grinning. _You just don't know it yet._

He released Reid's feet, but their legs stayed entwined. Not scandalously so, just in that their calves rested against one another comfortably. Reid leaned his head against the window and watched the clouds batter the plane like angry ghosts. Eventually he closed his eyes, and pretended not to notice when Morgan started to gently stroke the back of his leg with his foot.

Suddenly the laptop gave a beep to signal Garcia's return.

"Wow that was fast babygirl, you done already?"

"Oh yes, Reid isn't the only one with superpowers on this team." She winked. "Cute conversation guys."

Reid went bright red.

"Uh…Garcia, I'd appreciate it if…"

"No worries Clark Kent, your secrets are safe with me. Mama-Garcy has your back." She laughed. Morgan shook his head at her mock-disapprovingly.

"Have you always been able to listen to us after you hang up?" he asked suspiciously.

She gave a short burst of maniacal laughter which made everyone on the plane jump.

"Can we get back to talking about the case please?" Reid said.

"Very well Sugarplum. First off, wow was Hotch right about our killer, he has been busier than we realised. I've just sent you a list of _thirteen_ girls who were all reported missing, then found dead and tied up around a month later. The first three deaths were all years apart, but since last year there's been one death every month with terrifying regularity. He keeps jumping state lines so the police never connected them."

"There could have been some kind of trigger which started the escalation, something he took to be a slight to his manhood."

"It's actually unusual for paedophiles to be so violent. They generally use emotional manipulation or drug the children to get them to comply." Reid frowned.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm not sure. The torture definitely reads more like a sexual sadist. But for the two conditions to combine in one individual is statistically very unlikely."

"So you think this isn't the work of a paedophile?"

"I think it feels more like an ordinary sexual sadist with a personal grudge."

"What can a twelve year old have done to make him this angry?" Garcia said, shocked. "No wait, don't answer that. Just tell me what you need."

"Nothing for now babygirl, we need to talk to the parents and work out our profile."

"Okay. I'll keep my feelers out on the internet. Hotch said he might be filming the torture and uploading it so he can…" she stopped when she saw the look on his face. "Morgan? What's wrong?" she asked, seeing the look on their faces.

"Nothing babygirl. We're landing now so I'm gonna have to shut you down. Keep up the good work." He said, with hollow cheeriness.

"Oh…okay. Over and out." She gave a half-hearted salute and ended the call.

He shut the laptop down and looked at Reid. He was looking at the table, his face still blank, but he was scratching his left wrist a little too hard so his nails left a trail of pink lines crossing over each other. Morgan never knew anybody who had such expressive hands.

Reid saw Morgan watching his hands and pulled his sleeves down over them self-consciously, then smiled sadly.

"It's getting hard to ignore the similarities now isn't it? I half expect we'll find Eric Faraday's evil twin is behind it."

Morgan squeezed Reid's knees gently between his thighs in a sort of knee-hug.

"I know." He smiled and leaned forward. "But we'll get through this, I promise you that. Kay Superman?"

"Okay." Reid rolled his eyes at the nickname. "And then you and I are going to have a superhero movie marathon to educate you."

Morgan laughed. "Deal." He agreed casually, though the thought of just sitting on Reid's couch with him in the dark, eating popcorn and talking, made a couple of butterflies awaken in his stomach and tickle his gullet. He tried not to smile too much.

They continued to chat while the plane finished its descent. There were two cars waiting for them at the airport, which took them to the house of Lucy Davies.

...

Hotch rang the doorbell and a tired looking dark haired man in his late twenties answered it. He was carrying a sleeping baby girl, clutching her to his chest as if scared somebody would try to steal her as well. He was quickly joined by a woman.

"Are you Tom and Deborah Davies?" Hotch asked. They nodded anxiously. "I'm Agent Hotchner from the FBI, this is my team of specialist profilers. May we come in?"

"Sure." Said Mrs Davies standing back from the doorway. Hotch sat down with the couple on their couch while the rest of the team stood around them and listened.

"I can't imagine what you're going through right now, but I need to ask you some questions, is that alright?" Hotch asked gravely.

They nodded. "We'll do anything if it might help get our daughter back." Mr Davies said, his voice cracking. The baby girl looked up at him worriedly and started to whine.

"Here, why don't I take you up to your room for some play time?" JJ said, holding her hand out. Mr Davies hesitated but then smiled and thanked her.

They went through every possible angle again, no family disputes, no irate employees, no obvious link to the other families. Hotch also went through the procedure in case of a phone call. The phone didn't ring though. Morgan went through to the kitchen and made coffee for everyone. He sighed and leant against the kitchen sink waiting for the kettle to boil.

"Doesn't look like he's going to call them today." Reid spoke quietly from the doorway.

Morgan massaged his forehead.

"I can't stand waiting around here and not doing anything. I was thinking, it wouldn't hurt to check out the place she was taken from, see if he left a footprint or something."

Reid nodded. "Yeah, sounds good. Can I come too? I could use some fresh air."

"Sure." He nodded. "Man I just can't stop thinking about what that psycho could be doing to her right now. Imagine how scared she must be."

Reid nodded. "I don't have to imagine." He said so softly Morgan almost didn't hear him.

...

**WOO double chapter :D I'm such a dutiful author (totally hoping this will distract you from my long absence) '^^ **

**There's actually quite a funny story behind it. Since so much of my holiday was spent writing my two fanfictions, my mum got curious and one evening at dinner she asked me what I was writing. Perhaps unwisely, I replied; 'uh, it's just a novel I've been working on,' and since a certain german family friend was present (and he liked to mock me constantly) I got a little ahead of myself and was like 'oh yes, I'm past 50 pages now, it's a science fiction/philosophy themed book with postmodern influences, centered on the nature of memories and the part they play in shaping our identity.' They were all like D: and I was like :3 Me:1 German douche-bag: nil.**

**However. Around a week later I'd forgotten all about it when my mum says, hey, you totally have to put the fact that you're writing a novel in your college application. Me: ...*gropes around for excuse not to* Long story short, I am now writing a**** 'science fiction/philosophy themed book with postmodern influences, centered on the nature of memories and the part they play in shaping our identity'** purely out of guilt, and because **should I end up being accepted, for the rest of my days at that college **I would be irrationally terrified that my interviewer would one day demand to read it and I would be forced to admit that my intellectual postmodern style novel was actually gay porn. And lets face it I don't even write proper hard gay porn so much as write in far too much detail about the angsty hypothetical love-lives of fictional men who occasionally have implausible sex scenes with other men. GAAAH. 

**I officially fail at living.**


	7. Chapter 7

Hotch agreed to their trip and Morgan and Reid set off walking to the bus stop. The journey only took a few minutes, but the afternoon sun beat down on them mercilessly.

Morgan wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked around the quiet street, trying to get into the persona of somebody who wanted to kidnap a child.

"Okay, she's twelve years old, pretty, confident, well adjusted. She's not easy prey. So what do I do? I get her isolated somehow, so no one can hear her scream." He frowned. "So why wait until she's at the bus stop? Surely that would be a time where it's most crowded with children catching the bus, parents driving their kids to school?" he muttered to himself.

"Maybe she got there late?"

"Still, it's an exposed, suburban street, plenty of nosy neighbours." Morgan looked around. "The police interviewed the residents and they all saw nothing. How could a street this close not notice a screaming child being dragged into a car?"

He and Reid looked at each other. "Because she didn't scream." Reid answered.

"She knew him."

Morgan suddenly noticed they were being watched by a young boy playing with a basketball in the front yard of his house. The kid was just standing there holding the ball and looking worried.

"Hey kid!" Morgan called. The boy dropped his ball and ran back into his house.

"You'd make a terrible child molester." Reid blurted out. He then slapped his forehead and looked mortified. "Oh God I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking!"

Morgan laughed and slapped Reid on the back.

"Don't worry, I'll take that as a compliment." He said. "D'you think that kid got spooked cos we're cops or because he knows something?"

They went and rang the doorbell. Nobody answered.

"Looks like mom and dad aren't home." Reid smirked. "Don't go breaking down _his_ door now. Honestly I'm starting to think it gives you some kind of twisted sexual release. You're like a sexual sadist for doors."

Morgan dignified that response only as far as raising his eyebrows and giving him a sharp elbow in the ribs.

"Door pervert!" Reid hissed, clutching his side.

Morgan looked through the letterbox. The boy was standing in the hallway, trembling.

"Hey kid, don't worry, I'm from the FBI, I won't hurt you."

"Are you here to arrest me?" the boy asked nervously.

"Arrest you? No. Why would you think that?"

"It's a secret."

"Okay…listen, could you please open this door? We don't have much time. There's a little girl in trouble and I think you might know her."

"You mean Lucy?" the boy bit his lip and opened the door. He was skinny and tall for his age, with blonde hair and a deep freckled tan. He wore a basketball jersey which looked too big for him, and denim shorts which had holes at the knees.

"Yeah." Morgan said. They walked through to the kitchen and sat down. "So what's your name?"

"Joseph."

"I'm Derek, this is Spencer. We're here to catch the bad guy who took Lucy away. Are you friends with her?"

Joseph smiled proudly. "She's my girlfriend. We love each other and we're going to get married one day." He said matter-of-factly.

"Cool." Morgan tried not to laugh. "How do your parents feel about that?"

"Dad laughed and said we were too young." His face fell. "So we're saving up our pocket money to run away. That's why…" he stopped himself.

"Why what?" Morgan asked.

"It's a secret. She said she would break up with me if I told anyone."

"If you know where she is you have to tell us Joseph." Morgan looked at him seriously. "She could be in real trouble right now, and you could be the only one who's able to save her."

Joseph looked torn. "Okay...she saw this ad in the newspaper we were using in art class. It was looking for pretty blonde girls between 10 and 13 to be models, like for TV commercials and stuff. She said she was going to apply in secret, to raise enough money for us to get married. Today was her audition."

Reid and Morgan exchanged glances.

"Do you know have a copy of the newspaper?"

"Um…I think Lucy took it with her. But I remember the name of the agency I think…yeah it had a real funny sounding name. It was called '_Little_ _Nymphets'_."

"That's great, thanks." Reid stood up and pulled Morgan into the hallway.

"That's him! And that's an obviously fake name too!" he said in a low voice.

"What?"

"It's a reference to a book by Vladimir Nabokov, called Lolita. It's about a paedophile called Humbert Humbert, who marries a woman in order to get close to her 11 year old daughter. He calls the prepubescent girls he thinks are sexually awakened in some way 'nymphets.'"

"I'll call Hotch." Morgan said. Just then, there was a key in the door and a tall blonde man with deep set wrinkles walked in wrestling three bags of groceries.

"Who are you?" he demanded. They quickly flashed him their badges and explained what was going on. Joseph came out of the kitchen.

"I'm coming with you." He said, sticking his chin out. "It's my job to save her. I'm her boyfriend."

"That's brave of you, but-"

"Please! It's my fault she got taken! She never would have tried to get that modelling job if I hadn't asked her to marry me! She was so smart, she wanted to be a vet, not a model!" he blinked and big tears plopped out of his eyes. He wiped his face with his arm angrily.

"I had no idea you felt so strongly about her." His father said, bewildered.

"Excuse me sir but we have to hurry. You and Joseph can probably wait with the Davies if you'd like?" Reid said.

"Okay. Get in the car Joey, I'll drive you there." His father said.

Morgan and Reid hitched a lift back with Joseph, and Morgan phoned Hotch on the way to let him know what they'd discovered.

"A modelling agency? I suppose you have to give him points for creativity. Any idea which newspaper it was?" Hotch said.

"The kid can't remember, but I'll call Garcia, ask her to do a search for a company website or any other articles." Morgan replied.

He hung up and dialled Garcia's number.

"Hello my lovely, what can I do you for?" she asked in a husky voice.

"Oh you can do me for absolutely nothin' at all babydoll, but if you have the time I need you to look for a newspaper ad published recently about a modelling agency called_ Little Nymphets. _Look for payment details, anything."

"Okay, but this could take some digging, and you know I can't do anything if he paid in cash." She said.

"I know but we gotta try something, and fast."

"Roger that." she replied, sounding concerned. "Be careful." He was about to say he was always careful but then remembered that since he himself had been kidnapped not a week ago he could hardly claim this to be true. She'd hung up by then anyway.

"We're just about ready to give the profile." Hotch said to the cops who were taking notes in the living room.

Morgan stood up. "He's most likely a white male between 25 and 35, who owns a large expensive looking car, while his house, if he has one, is neglected on the inside. He may not even have a house as we know he travels extensively from state to state. He feels underappreciated and victimised by work colleagues and bosses, and as a result finds it difficult to hold down a job. We know he is severely narcissistic, probably works out a lot, takes care of himself. He is confident, even charming with women and children, which is why he chooses this elaborate ruse rather than simply picking off the first child who strays in his direction. He plans and prepares every detail meticulously, it gives him a feeling of control and ensures he can spend all the time he wants with his victim. He probably films himself abusing them in order to relive the experience. We do not, however, believe that he is a typical paedophile, in that he is not innately attracted to children."

"How can you say that, when he rapes them over and over?" a dark skinned female officer asked sceptically. There was a small sob from the doorway as Mrs Davies came into the room with a tea tray.

"Ma'am, I'm really sorry…" the cop started to say, but the she had already left the room. Prentiss went after her.

Reid picked up the conversation, "In answer to your question officer, the extensive marks of torture on the bodies show he is primarily a sexual sadist, meaning he achieves sexual release through torture. The actual act of intercourse with them we believe, is more of a psychological punishment and a way of defiling their innocence. A paedophile is more likely to appreciate the girls unharmed bodies as sex objects, and the killing part would be remorseful for them, only a necessary means to protect themselves. They would tend to want to keep the children for much longer as well. Of course, this is just speculation, but what it all points to, is that he is a sexual sadist with a grudge against somebody who looks, or at one time looked just like the young girls who were taken. By violently torturing them he is vicariously enacting his rage for this person onto the girls." he explained.

The officers nodded and left. JJ re-entered the room with the Davies' sleeping daughter in one arm and her phone in the other hand.

"I've just called the other parents to ask about the modelling agency line. Viola Jackson didn't tell them about any modelling company but when they looked in her bedroom they found a newspaper ad for a company called Teenbabe models, same thing asking for blonde haired blue eyed children, and it listed a telephone number which is now out of service, go figure. Maria Goldmund also said nothing to her parents but an investigation of her chatlogs showed her talking to a friend about modelling auditions the day before she went missing."

"Don't any little girls ask their parents' permission for these things anymore?" Rossi asked.

"You'd think so, but the ads are really persuasive and sneaky. Viola's parents faxed them over. Take a look." She handed one to Prentiss, Reid, Hotch, Morgan and Rossi.

Teenbabe Modelling Agency Looking For New Talent!

Are you sick of being told what to do by your parents because they're the ones with all the money? Are you fed up with being forced to study boring subjects because adults who are jealous of your talent don't want you to be famous? Are you blonde haired, blue eyed and between the ages of 10 and 13? If you answered yes to all three of these, we can help you change your life! We're looking for teenage girls to star in a TV commercial, $500 for one easy day of filming, leading to a possible permanent contract with one of our agents. Call our experienced talent scouts and set up an audition whenever suits you.

"Oh, _my_ _God_." Morgan said.

"He's profiling his victims to a T." Prentiss said in disgust. "Playing on little girls' dreams of being famous to isolate them from their parents."

Just then, the laptop beeped on the table and Garcia appeared.

"Uh, hey guys, I did some research and found the articles in question. Bad news on that front, he used cash for everything, and the numbers he used must have been disposable cell phones. Bu-ut, I think you should take a look at this."

**Sarah Parish 17, escapes from abuser after being held captive for 7 years.**

The parents of Miss Sarah Parish had given up hope of ever seeing their daughter alive again after she disappeared at the age of ten. An investigation was conducted into her disappearance and made state-wide news headlines, while several details from the case were leaked such as a link between the missing girl and a fake talent agency named 'Little Starlets' though this was never publicly confirmed by the police. Last Tuesday, Sarah returned home in nothing but a thin blood-stained cotton dress with bare feet covered in blisters and gave her parents the shock of their lives. She is now in hospital being treated for severe malnutrition, dehydration, shock, and anaemia, as well as the numerous contusions and bruises covering every inch of her small body. "It is clear," said Dr Howard, the Chief of Medicine at Adams County Hospital, "she has undergone unimaginable torture during the time she has been missing, she has not yet spoken to any of us, even her parents, she is so severely mentally traumatised." Sarah's father said "To think that any human being could be this cruel to such a beautiful, kind hearted girl…I seriously don't know whether I can believe in the goodness of mankind anymore." and then he broke down into tears for his lost daughter.

Hotch looked at the date of the article. "She must have been his first victim."

"The only one who escaped." Reid remarked.

"He never kept them for so long after that." Morgan said grimly.

"Do you think she escaped? Or did he let her go for some reason?" Prentiss asked.

"Well you can ask her yourself." Garcia said. "I did some digging on Sarah Parish and found a current address for her. It's only a couple of hours away from you guys."

"Thank you Garcia. We'll head down there now. JJ can you warn the local newspapers not to run any ads for talent agencies? But don't let them publicise that we know that's how he's getting the girls, he'll be following the investigation rigorously trying to find out if we're onto him. Tell them the little girl's life is at stake."

"Sure, right away." JJ nodded and handed the baby to Rossi, who cringed visibly as if he'd been given a tarantula, and passed it to Morgan, who jiggled it uncomfortably for a second before trying to give it to Prentiss, but she just laughed at him.

"What, do you think just because I'm a woman I'm happy to just stand around holding the baby while you go and do the real work?"

Morgan looked at the child. It began to cry.

"Shhhh…shhh _please._ Aww come on Prentiss! What am I meant to do with her? Don't you ladies have some sort of instinct for this kind of thing?"

Prentiss looked at the baby warily. "I must have missed that particular class at Woman School." She said sarcastically. "Along with the flower arranging, knitting and faking headaches to get out of having sex." She smirked. "Never needed any of them so far."

"I _bet_ you haven't." Morgan laughed.

"I would strongly recommend supporting the head, as infants are born with under-developed sternocleidomastoid muscles and if held incorrectly you could permanently damage the muscles and put pressure on the brain or even cut off the air flow in the trachea." Reid piped up helpfully.

"You mean I nearly killed her just by holding her?" Morgan said, so distressed by this that he forgot to be manly and cuddled the baby close against his broad chest, stroking her back. She quieted down immediately and snuffled his ear like a puppy. It was kind of nice, apart from the ever present fear that she would vomit or crap on him.

"Well well boy-genius, you have your uses after all." Prentiss smiled. "Aww this is so cute I'mma have to take a picture. Hold still. Reid, you get in there too." She held her phone up.

"Don't you dare!" Morgan hissed.

"Too late." She grinned. "Don't worry I'll send you two a copy. Along with everyone else at the office."

"Prentiss, Rossi, you come with me to visit Sarah. Reid and Morgan you stay here in case he calls, and Reid see if you can work on getting a location from the three dump sites." Hotch gave the commands and left. The other two followed.

"Great." Morgan sighed. "I'm an FBI trained nanny." The baby squawked softly and Morgan rocked her from side to side.

Reid smiled. "If it makes you feel any better you're going to have even more women throwing themselves at you than usual if Prentiss really does send that to everyone. Women are psychologically driven to mate with men who show good fathering skills, as it increases the likelihood of their offspring surviving."

"Really?" he tried to sound enthusiastic.

Reid looked at him curiously. "I suppose the novelty must wear off after a while." He speculated.

"No…it's not like I'm not flattered or anything, I just…I don't really want a relationship at the moment. Or any…you know."

"Oh." Reid said timidly. "Is that…is that because of…because of what happened with us?"

Morgan didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't want sex with women because he had never wanted sex with women. But he didn't want sex with men either. Not because he was still pining over Reid, (okay he was always pining over Reid.) but more because of being generally unsettled by the thought of being naked and being touched and not having full control of his personal space.

He shook his head and went for the ambiguous reply, "I don't know. Maybe." He sat down on the Davies' sofa as his legs were starting to get tired. Reid joined him.

Luckily Mr and Mrs Davies came into the living room at that point, along with Joseph and his father. Morgan suddenly felt awful for the couple, and felt the need to apologise.

"I'm so sorry, this is your house and we all crowded in and out all day and it must hard enough for you without us invading your home…and oh! I'm holding your baby, is that okay? Would you like her back?" he went to stand up but Mrs Davies put a finger on her lips and motioned for him to stay sitting down.

"She's teething like the devil!" she whispered. "I have no idea how you managed to get her off to sleep but thank you! She must really trust you."

"Oh." Morgan smiled gratefully at the baby. _Ha, take that Prentiss!_

"She's got good taste." Reid smiled.

It was a tiny soap bubble of happiness, but it was happiness all the same. Talking with Reid on the plane, the few moments he got to lie down next to Reid in his apartment. They all built up. He was still in negative life-happiness points so to speak, but life was slowly starting to repay the debt. Even if his happy moments were decidedly Reid-centric.

He hoped Reid felt the same.

**How are you enjoying my little mini episode of criminal minds? I managed to fit in a little classic 'morgan pretending to be the unsub' scene, and a 'Reid gets a clever literary reference no-one else got' scene ;D I could totally write this shit for a living. **


	8. Chapter 8

Sarah Parish lived alone in a small town a few miles off the highway. The house was neglected and looked vaguely sunken in on itself like the cheeks of the woman herself. She was in her twenties by now but she looked much older, lines on her face mapping out the torture she'd suffered. She was dressed in a faded salmon pink dressing gown with scarred bare feet and lank wilted white-blonde hair brushed over her face to hide the startling puckered burn scar which covered the left side of her face and neck.

Prentiss took the lead, knowing that victims who had been raped were often more comfortable talking to women.

"Hi Miss Parish, I'm Agent Emily Prentiss," she said gently, "This is Agent Hotchner and Agent Rossi. We need to ask you a few questions about a case we think may be linked to your abduction."

She looked at them as if they were a thousand miles away, some creatures of vague interest, but who couldn't quite pierce the smooth membrane of her apathy. Eventually she stood back from the door, inviting them inside.

"Call me Sarah. How did you find me?" she asked resignedly.

"Our technical analyst contacted the witness protection scheme but they said you'd left their care without your parents and disappeared. She then tracked you down through your account details. It's a method only available to us. Don't worry, there's no way for the unsub to have found you."

"Unsub?" she asked, leading them into the sitting room and sitting down in a shabby armchair.

"Unknown Subject." Rossi clarified.

She nodded. "So you say you have questions for me? Couldn't you have talked to the police?"

"We don't have much time, a girl is missing right now." Hotch explained. "Besides, some new information has come to light. We believe a large number of young blonde girls have been kidnapped and murdered by the same man, from five different states including Ohio."

"Oh God." she said. She stood up and walked over to a desk. She pulled out a stack of polaroid photos. Each one showed one of the missing girls, dressed up and posing for the camera, laughing, smiling.

"Are these…?" she asked.

Prentiss took them and looked at them.

"Yes, these are the victims, look there's Viola and Maria."

"Why do you have these?" Rossi asked.

She looked nauseated. "They keep being posted through the door, with a letter from a modelling agency. I was confused because it was asking for eleven to thirteen year old girls and I don't have..." Suddenly her eyes widened in shock and she put a hand to her mouth.

"What is it?" Prentiss put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"That's how old…how old our baby would be this year." She said numbly. "He got me pregnant."

Prentiss guided her back towards the chair, stroking her back soothingly.

"Is that why he let you live?" Hotch asked.

She nodded. "He told me it would make everything right again, but I couldn't, I _couldn't keep his baby inside me!"_

"Did you tell anyone else?" Prentiss asked stroking her hand.

She shook her head. "I hid it from my parents. They were strict Catholics, they would never have let me abort it. But I couldn't accept their love and sympathy when I'd betrayed our faith like that, so I ran away."

Hotch and Rossi went into the kitchen to make some tea for the crying woman, while Prentiss continued to hold her hand.

"What do you make of this?" Hotch asked, filling the kettle.

"I'm not sure. If the unsub gets sadistic pleasure from hurting little girls, why is he angry at Sarah for killing their daughter?"

"And what did mean that her giving birth to his child would make everything right again?"

"Could this be about his own child?"

"Perhaps. But what can a child do that would hurt their father so much that he needs to punish them over and over?" Hotch asked.

"I don't know." Rossi sighed. "But we need to figure it out before time runs out for Lucy Davies."

...

"I wonder how Hotch and Rossi are getting on with Sarah Parish?" Reid said, handing Morgan a coffee. Morgan carefully switched the sleeping infant to his other arm and took the mug gratefully. "I hope we find her soon." Reid continued. "I keep thinking..." he stopped himself.

"Thinking what?" Morgan asked.

"Well about how scared she must be. I mean, what we went through was awful, but we at least _understood_ what they were doing to us. She's got no idea what's happening to her."

He was starting to talk about it. That was a good sign, surely?

"What do you think it means that he referenced that Lolita book?" Morgan asked, to take Reid's mind off the little girl.

"Well...it means he's fairly well read and educated. And I guess maybe that he empathises with Humbert, even though the profile says he isn't a paedophile. Throughout the book he's constantly either manipulating or being manipulated by the girl he's molesting. So maybe this guy feels like he's been controlled or tricked by a girl in his life."

Morgan tried to think about that, but his tired brain kept short circuiting.

"Man this kid is heavy." He complained.

"Aww suck it up superdad. You had the chance to give her back and you didn't."

"I was _trying_ to save them the trouble of getting her back to sleep."

"Of course you were." Reid smiled and sat down next to him, looking at the baby snoozing obliviously in Morgan's muscled arms.

Morgan laughed. "You know, she punched me in her sleep a couple of minutes ago. It was _adorable_. And hey, put your finger in her hand, see if she grabs it."

Reid put his mug down and leaned over, stroking his little finger against the baby's hand. Immediately she clamped her fingers around it.

"Wow she's got quite the grip on her." He said, wincing a little. He smiled at Morgan. "You're really good with kids aren't you?"

"Yeah I guess. I always liked hanging out with the boys at the youth centre back home. I think you just gotta treat them like adults. They know if you're patronising them and they stop trusting you."

"Kids don't usually like me so much." Reid admitted. "Normally whenever I try to talk to them they stare at me or point and laugh and then walk away."

Morgan laughed. "You probably just need to practise more. I mean you were an only child, so that makes it harder to relate to them."

"Yeah I guess. Even when I was a kid myself I got pretty much the same reaction from the other children. Except sometimes they would stick my head down a toilet first." Reid said wryly.

Morgan gave him a sympathetic smile. He didn't trust himself to speak, since he felt compelled to apologise, to confess how guilty it made him to know that he probably would have been the one shoving Reid's head down a toilet if their paths had crossed. He'd been full of anger and self-loathing as a child, and quite often he'd gone too far in order to impress one gang or another, and done things to other kids which made him feel sick to remember. Sometimes he got the feeling that Reid knew this, and as a result he and Reid had formed a kind of unspoken pact not to ask about each other's pasts.

Even so, it always struck him as incredibly ironic that ten years or so down the line, the quarterback had fallen for the outcast.

At this point Joseph wandered in sleepily like a ghost in borrowed PJs, his blonde hair sticking up at crazy angles.

"Hey little man, you alright?" Morgan asked. Joseph sighed and sat down on Morgan's other side, with the weariness of an old man.

"Yeah." He said.

"Couldn't sleep?" Reid asked.

"Nuh uh."

"Nightmare?"

"Yep."

"What about?"

He shrugged.

"Come on kid, it helps to talk about them."

"It's no big deal. I get them all the time. I dream that my dad leaves without me. It's stupid."

"Why would your dad leave you?" Reid asked.

"He always wants to move. Every few months it's a new house, new school. I hate it."

"Have you told him that?"

"Yeah. He just gets mad at me and says if I want to stay so bad he'll leave me behind."

"What about your mom?" Morgan asked, concerned.

"I haven't seen her since I was six. Dad says I make her depressed because I look like my sister Lindsay, and she died when we were 5. It sucks, it would've been so cool to have a twin."

"I'm sorry man. That's rough."

"When I marry Lucy we're going to stay together all our lives, even if all our kids die." His face fell. "I hope you find her soon.

There was a grim silence.

Then the doorbell rang.

...

"Sarah, are you absolutely certain you can't remember any other details about the unsub? I know it's hard for you to think about it but it's vital that you try. A little girl's life depends on it." Prentiss said gently to the crying woman.

"I'm sorry! I honestly don't remember anything that could help you!"

"Well we'll be the judge of that. Please just tell us whatever you have."

She thought for a moment.

"He was blonde. _Handsome, _or at least I thought so when I first saw him. He had one of those faces that look like they belong on TV. He found me playing on a swing in the park near my old house."

"What did he do?"

"He approached me with a story about some modelling agency, Little Starlets. I was taken in at first but when he asked me to come with him to his studio I got nervous and tried to back out. Then he got angry. He punched me in the face until I blacked out, then all I remember was waking up in darkness hurting all over. He never spoke, except to give me commands. I begged him to stop, to let me go, but he just looked at me like…like…" she couldn't seem to find the words.

"He never gave anything away about his life?" Prentiss asked.

"No. Once I thought I heard a child crying, but I might have imagined it. Oh! And when he got really angry and lost control, he called me Cassandra."

The agents exchanged glances. Hotch pulled out his phone and dialled.

"You've reached the Magical Emporium of Dreams, tell me your wishes oh puny mortals."

"Garcia I need you to look for girls named Cassandra who lived near…" he turned to Sarah Parish. "What was your old address?" he asked. She gave him an address and he relayed it to Garcia. "…around or before the time Sarah disappeared."

"Uh…"

"I know it's not much to go on but it's a fairly uncommon name isn't it?"

"It would be a lot quicker if I searched by school."

Rossi cut in, "I have a hunch, something Sarah said about him having the kind of face for TV, and his ruse of the talent agency."

"You think he's in showbusiness?" Hotch asked.

"We know he's a narcissist. It would suit him well. Look at private school records in the area. TV stars don't send their little darlings to state schools."

"Okay Garcia check the nearest private schools. Cross reference girls named Cassandra with fathers in showbusiness. Actually, with fathers who _were_ in showbusiness."

"Losing his job may have been a stresser." Rossi nodded.

"It's a long shot but it's worth a try." Hotch said.

"Aye aye Captain." Garcia said. There was the sound of frantic tapping. "Aand…there are four private schools in the area, one of which only takes boys…" there was a pause. "Okay, sorry boss but there are a higher number of Cassandras with famous daddies than you'd expect in private school."

"How many?"

"Thirteen hits."

"Okay can we narrow them down by hair colour?"

"Six of them are blondes…no wait, five that girl's hair colour is totally fake. Honestly, who lets a ten year old bleach their hair blonde?"

"Focus Garcia. Look for girls with troubled backgrounds."

"Oh here's something." More tapping. "Cassandra Jones, was taken out of school when her stepfather who was a children's TV presenter and her mother who owned a _talent agency_ divorced over allegations Cassandra made that he'd been sexually abusing her."

"That would certainly explain his rage." Rossi said.

"The case went to court but there wasn't enough evidence to convict. It was her word against his, and her teachers admitted she had a history of lying to get her own way, and that she hated her stepfather. Even so, he lost everything. No one wanted to hire a presenter to work with kids when he'd been accused of being a paedophile, his wife took nearly everything he had in the divorce and stopped him from seeing his two biological children. Basically she ruined his life."

"What was the name of the stepfather?"

...

Reid opened the door. "Oh hey Mr...umm..."

"Miller. But call me Frank." Joseph's dad smiled, looking tired. "So sorry to leave him with you, I had some things I needed to sort out. I hope he hasn't been a bother. I'll take him home with me now."

"Oh...sure." Reid hesitated, feeling suddenly uneasy. He told himself to get a grip and called for Joseph.

"Hey son." Frank said when Joseph came to the door. He ruffled the boy's hair, but the boy just looked up at him unsmilingly. "Come on, get in the car. Thanks again agent Reid."

He held Reid's gaze for a moment.

"Sure. No problem." Reid said. An icy chill crept down his neck. He looked down at the man's right hand, which had stayed in his pocket the entire time, arm tensed. And he knew. He just knew with a sickening certainty what he was concealing, and cursed himself for leaving his gun in the other room.

Reid's phone rang in his pocket. Fear congealed in his pounding heart as he realised he knew exactly what Hotch was calling to tell him. Frank Miller looked down at the phone where it was clipped to his belt.

"Right. Goodbye." He forced himself to sound friendly, knowing that if just one syllable sounded unnatural or worried it could cost his or Joseph their lives. He shut the door, trembling and forced himself to walk calmly into the next room.

Morgan stood up and looked at him with concern. Reid held a hand up for him to be quiet.

"Hello?" he answered the call. It was Hotch.

"We've got a name, Frank Miller. He's the father of the boy who you talked to isn't he?" Hotch said.

"Yes." Reid's heart sank. "He just left here. With Joseph."

He saw the expression on Morgan's face change to horror as he realised they'd just let a little boy walk off with the unsub.

Unfortunately so did Frank Miller.

The glass of the living room window shattered as five shots were fired at the agents inside.


	9. Chapter 9

Morgan hit the floor immediately. "Reid!? You okay?" Morgan yelled into the sudden darkness. It seemed one of the shots had struck the ceiling light. The baby had started screeching in his tight grip. There was glass everywhere.

"Owwww." Reid replied mournfully. "I hit my head on the coffee table."

Morgan sighed in relief. It seemed Miller wasn't such a great shot.

"What's going on!?" Mr Davies yelled as he and Mrs Davies ran into the room.

"No time to explain. Come on Reid let's go!" he got to his feet and pressed the child into its father's arms gratefully.

They ran outside to find that Frank Miller had shot holes in their tyres.

"Shit!" Morgan swore.

"Mrs Davies!" Reid called to the woman who was watching them. "May we borrow your car?"

She shook her head. "It's at the mechanic's! We only have a motorcycle right now."

"That's fine ma'am." Reid said. Mrs Davies tossed him the keys.

"You can drive a motorcycle?" Morgan asked warily.

"Sure. Well…this will be the first time but the theory of it seems _fairly_ straightforward."

Morgan wished he hadn't asked.

They climbed onto the bike. Morgan wrapped his arms around Reid's waist without thinking, his actions carried by adrenaline (and fear of death). Luckily Reid really did seem to know what he was doing and at least got them out of the suburban road with a body count of zero. Morgan's phone went off in his pocket as they zoomed through a red light and he answered it.

"Hotch, we're chasing him but he's got a pretty good head start. Any idea which way he went?"

"His current address is in Wyoming. If he's going back there to collect Lucy he'll be heading for the interstate. If he has Lucy already it's anyone's guess. We'll head for his place anyway to see if Lucy's there."

"Alright. What car's he driving?"

"An old red Mercedes, licence plate E520 JJV. Backup's on the way, they're sending a helicopter."

"Okay." Morgan hung up and resumed his desperate clinging as Reid narrowly avoided a very solid looking white Chevy which blared its horn at them.

_I am too old for this shit. _Morgan thought.

"Hotch says- WATCH OUT FOR THE PERSON REID! –that he might head for the interstate. And we're looking for a red Mercedes."

"I THINK I SEE HIM." Reid yelled back through the rushing wind before speeding up even further, until Morgan felt like he was about to get sucked off the back by the force of the air.

Frank Miller seemed to see them too, and immediately screeched round a corner through a red light. A couple of cars bumped noses in the confusion but it didn't seem too serious and Reid leaned left and took them round the collision. Luckily the next road was pretty clear since it was late at night, and Miller put his foot down, but so did Reid, matching him every time, not crowding him too much in case he panicked and lost control. Joseph was in there and Lucy might've been too.

For a moment they were almost parallel to the car and it seemed like Miller was slowing, but then he stuck his gun out the window and shot at them, wild desperate shots which didn't find their target and just made the car swerve worryingly into oncoming traffic. Reid slowed down a little and slipped in behind him so it would be harder for him to reach them with the gun.

"HE'S PANICKING. THIS ISN'T GOOD." Morgan yelled.

"WE NEED TO TALK HIM DOWN IF WE'RE GONNA GET THOSE KIDS OUT SAFELY." Reid replied.

"HOW ARE WE GONNA DO THAT FROM HERE?" Morgan asked.

"…I'M AFRAID I CAN'T BE HELPFUL AND CONCENTRATE ON NOT KILLING US BOTH AT THE SAME TIME."

Just then Joseph's face appeared over the back seat, looking pale and terrified, giving Morgan an idea.

"OKAY LEAVE IT WITH ME." Morgan said. He took out his phone and called Garcia.

"This is Garcia, High Priestess of all things electronic, state your-"

"GARCIA I NEED THE CELL NUMBER FOR JOSEPH MILLER."

"_No need to shout!_ I had the volume turned up all the way! That is _so_ not the way to address a High Priestess! 440-679-1120. You're lucky I'm in a forgiving-"

"THANKS BABYGIRL." Morgan cut her off before he forgot the number and dialled it.

….

"Don't touch that phone Joseph! I mean it!" Frank Miller snapped.

"Why shouldn't I? Are you gonna shoot me too dad?"

The question hung in the air uncomfortably. Lucy Davies sobbed through the gag in her mouth on the seat next to Joseph. Joseph held her hand comfortingly, even though her wrists were tied up so tight she couldn't feel anything. The phone continued to ring in the pockets of his shorts. He looked out the window at the two agents on the bike behind them. The black guy Derek was the one calling him. He was scared, of answering and not answering, torn between not wanting his father taken away, and not wanting things to go on like they were, falling asleep at night to the sound of screams. His father thought the basement was fully soundproofed, but it wasn't, not quite. Joseph's room was right above it. He never saw who they were. If he'd known for sure that his father had taken Lucy he would have told Derek straight away what he knew. It was his fault too if she died, he thought. He had to be a man and protect her, even if his father hurt him for it.

He answered the phone, ignoring his father's enraged yelling.

"Derek?"

"Hey kid, you alright in there?"

"Yeah, Lucy's here too."

"SHUT UP JOSEPH! HANG UP! HANG UP RIGHT NOW!"

"Joseph could you put me on speakerphone please?"

"Sure. Hang on." Joseph agreed. "Okay."

"Mr Miller, can you hear me?"

"Yes I can hear you _Agent Morgan_." he said mockingly.

"Sir, you don't have to do this. I just want to talk."

"So talk! It won't make a difference."

"Look, I know a lot about you sir."

"Oh yeah? _What_ do you know?"

"I know that you were only getting payback for what that girl Cassandra did to you."

There was a pause.

"How the hell do you know that!?"

"Believe me sir I understand why you're angry. She humiliated you, destroyed your life. Thanks to her you were barely in your own daughter's life before she died."

"That little bitch lied to _everyone_." The man hissed venomously.

"Exactly. And she never got punished for it. But this isn't the way to punish her, by putting your own son's life in danger. I know you only want justice for what she did to you and I swear to you now that if you give yourself up I will personally make sure everybody knows what she did to you. The FBI has contacts with the media and we can do that sir. We can get you the attention you deserve. But if you don't stop now then I will make sure that none of the papers print anything about you except that you're a deranged child molester. Do you know what happens to child molesters in prison sir?"

There was a long silence, then the car pulled into a rest stop. Reid pulled up behind it. Morgan climbed off the bike and took out his gun. Reid followed.

"SIR. PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS OUT THE WINDOW WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM." Morgan shouted.

Miller slowly put out his hands.

"I'll keep my gun on him, you get the kids out."

Reid nodded and opened the back door. Joseph scrambled out, trying to pull Lucy out after himself. Reid climbed onto the back seat and picked her up awkwardly, trying to avoid aggravating her wounds.

"Now take the keys out of the ignition and step out of the car."

Miller didn't move.

"SIR. I WON'T TELL YOU AGAIN. STEP OUT OF THE CAR."

Miller stamped on the accelerator and screeched back onto the road. Morgan's heart was in his mouth as Reid and Lucy only just managed to jump out before the car fully sped up. He shot like a maniac at Miller's tyres, and hit one, but it didn't slow him down much. This was one determined unsub.

"Reid! You alright?" he ran over to help Reid who was carrying Lucy to the side of the road.

"More or less." Reid said, looking a little shaken. "You better call Hotch and tell him Miller got away."

Morgan nodded. He called Hotch again while Reid and Joseph worked at getting Lucy free of her bindings.

"Hey, Hotch, I'm really sorry but he-"

"You don't have to be sorry. He drove straight into our roadblock and is in our custody now. If you give me your location I'll send a car and an ambulance to pick you up."

Morgan gave a sigh of relief.

"They got him." He told Lucy and Reid once he'd hung up.

Lucy started crying hysterically as soon as the gag was taken away. She tried to say something through her sobs but she couldn't get the words out. She put her arms around Reid and cried into his chest, and he told her she was safe and that no one would hurt her again, and other mumbled words of comfort in a soothing tone.

For some reason Morgan could hardly look at her. He didn't want to face the reality of what she'd been through. The scars on her bare arms, the bruises and the look in her eyes like overnight the world had become some frightening place she couldn't understand anymore.

It reminded him far too much of how Reid had looked that night.

He sat down heavily on the side of the road, feeling sick. Probably from that crazy near-death-experience bike ride, he told himself. Joseph stood around, looking quite out of his depth.

The ambulance arrived soon, but not nearly soon enough when the violated sobs of an innocent twelve year old girl still rang in his ears. The paramedics got her onto the bed, but she grabbed Reid and refused to let go.

"Uhh…you should probably take Joseph back to the others." Reid said. "I'll go with her."

"You sure?" Morgan asked concernedly. If this was how being around Lucy made _him_ feel, how painful would it be for Reid?

Reid hesitated. "…Yeah. It's fine."

"Okay." Morgan held his gaze for a second then nodded and got into the car.

….

"What happens to me now?" Joseph asked in a small voice from the seat next to him.

"We'll probably try to track down your mom." Morgan replied.

"She doesn't want me. That's why she left us." He looked out the window glumly.

Morgan sighed. "Joseph, this may be hard to hear, but I think your dad probably told you that so you wouldn't try to contact her. He actually wasn't supposed to have custody of you, but he took you away from your mom when you were little just after your sister died. We think that's probably why he started…taking these girls."

"Are they going to kill him?"

"Not if he comes quietly."

The boy was quiet for a moment.

"He raped them didn't he." He said, more a statement than a question.

How the hell was he supposed to answer that?

"You don't need to know the answer to that kid." Morgan put a hand on his skinny shoulder. "He's still your father. It's okay to be sad about losing him."

Joseph nodded. He didn't cry. He looked more relieved than anything.

Kids never failed to surprise him.

Once he'd handed Joseph over to JJ to sort out where he was going to live, Morgan joined the others at the roadblock, watching the police officers shove Miller into a car.

"Good job today Morgan." Rossi said.

"You kidding? I almost let that son of a bitch get away."

"Well. You stalled him long enough. We got him in the end." Prentiss said.

"Not soon enough." Morgan said, thinking of Lucy.

No one spoke for a while after that. They drove to the hospital to pick up Reid on their way to the airport. Morgan went into Lucy's room while the others waited outside it to avoid crowding her.

Reid was holding her hand, his back was to the door, but Morgan could tell from the way he sat that he was exhausted. Lucy didn't see Morgan either.

"He told me it was my fault. That it wasn't…wasn't his fault, because I wanted it to happen. He said I deserved it for being a lying bitch." She was saying, her eyes full of tears.

"Lucy," Reid said softly, his voice somehow strong and vulnerable at the same time. "That's what all rapists say. He was what we call an Anger-Retaliation rapist. He wanted to blame you, to make you feel weak so you couldn't fight back. They do it to make themselves feel powerful. You did exactly the right thing, and that's why you're still here."

"What am I going to tell my mom and dad?" she cried.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I'll talk to them for you. But you should probably talk to someone, like a counsellor or something."

"I just want to forget. I feel so…embarrassed." She wept, hugging her knees and hiding her face as she cried.

Reid stroked her back helplessly.

"I understand how you feel. I really do." He said quietly. She looked up at him through her tears.

"_Really?_" she asked, meaningfully.

Reid looked for a moment like he would deny it, but then he nodded and gave her a wry smile.

"Does it get better?" she asked uncertainly. Morgan found himself desperately wanting to hear the answer.

Reid hesitated.

"Yeah. I think it does." He nodded.

"Reid." Morgan said. They both turned to look at him. "C'mon we've got a flight to catch, and her parents are here."

Reid and Lucy exchanged glances. Reid nodded.

"Okay. I'll be right out."

Reid stood up and followed him out of the room just as her parents arrived into the waiting room.

"Uh, Mr and Mrs Davies…"

"Is it true? Our baby's safe?"

"Yes, but I'd like to prepare you a little before you go in. If that's alright?"

"What are you saying? We want to see our daughter!" Mr Davies said angrily.

"I know that sir. I won't keep you long. It's just that…well there's no easy way to say this but…your daughter was raped by the unsub." There was a stunned silence. "And she can't seem to bring herself to talk about it at the moment, but one day she'll probably need to, and at that point I would recommend that she sees a trained counsellor."

"Our daughter doesn't need a counsellor! She has us! We can talk about anything!" Mr Davies shouted.

Mrs Davies snapped, "Shut up Tom!" He looked at her in shock. "This isn't about us, it's about her!"

He quietened down and looked sorry.

"I understand you're angry at the man who did this, frustrated that you couldn't protect her, but you need to forget about him and focus on supporting your daughter." Reid said gently.

They nodded, and Hotch showed them into Lucy's room.

Reid sat down heavily on one of the plastic chairs in the hospital corridor. He looked completely wrung out now he'd done what he considered to be his duty towards the victim and her family, and could collapse in private.

No one knew what to say. Morgan wanted to talk to Reid but he couldn't with Hotch, Rossi and Prentiss there.

Finally Reid himself broke the silence.

"If someone would be so kind as to fetch me a coffee and twelve packets of sugar that would be super."

Everyone chuckled, and the atmosphere relaxed slightly.

"I'll see what I can do." Hotch said. "Morgan, d'you want one too?"

"Yes please, black with-"

"Black with no sugar." Everyone said in unison and laughed again.

"We really spend far too much time together." Prentiss smiled.

"I didn't even know my ex-wives' coffee habits off by heart." Rossi complained.

"Come on, you help me carry." Hotch said to Prentiss and Rossi.

Thank God for Hotch's mysterious hypersensitivity to the group's dynamics, and for instinctively guessing they wanted to be alone.

Morgan sat on the chair next to Reid's. He was just wondering how to begin, when Reid beat him to it.

"She's being put into the children's ward after tonight." He said tiredly, pressing his eyelids with his thumb and forefinger like he had a headache.

"Oh." Morgan said, unsure where the conversation was meant to be going.

"I mean can you imagine that?" Reid raised his head. "Having to sit in a ward full of crying babies and children's toys, and animal murals on the walls when you've been through what she's just been through? It seems like some kind of twisted joke. She's sure as hell not a child anymore. He took that away, just like…Ugh. I don't know. I guess I just wish I could've thought of something useful to tell her."

"Are you kidding? I heard what you said to her. You were great. I'm really proud of you."

Reid stood up and started pacing agitatedly.

"Proud of me? What the hell for? For lying to her? Acting like going to a counsellor fixes everything when I have no intention of even going myself? Or how about telling her it gets better when I clearly know that it doesn't?"

Morgan's heart sank. He should have known things were going too smoothly. Should have known that the reason Reid seemed to be healing so well was that they were all in their work mindset, the unhealthy shove-every-personal-problem-to-the-back-of-your-mind-or-you'll-end-up-getting-someone-killed mindset common to every profiler.

"That's exactly why I'm proud of you." He said sincerely. Reid stopped pacing and looked at him. "I'm proud that despite what you've been through, what you're going through, you still found it in you to give that girl some hope. You knew that she was too young to be told how hard it will be for her to get through it, so you told her what she needed to hear. So yes. I am _hella_ proud of you boy."

Reid looked down miserably. Morgan knew he looked at the floor like that in situations where he didn't want to cry in front of people.

"So why do I feel like I've betrayed her?" he said when he'd regained some control.

"Well, for one thing you're tired and strung out from withdrawal and I'm guessing insomnia." Morgan laughed. "Look kid, you saved her life. That's more than enough to ask of you. It may sound heartless, but you're not a counsellor, and caring for that girl is not your responsibility anymore."

"You're right, that does sound heartless." Reid snapped, "and d'you want to know what I think? Honestly? I mean you keep having these little talks with me even though _you're_ not a counsellor either. So, as you seem to be so interested in profiling my feelings I'll tell you what I think. I think that girl is going to go to a counsellor and try her best to struggle on with her life and forget what happened in order to please her parents, but then she'll realise that she's never going to be able to forget. And at first everyone'll be sympathetic, but eventually, it may be a few years down the line but _eventually_, they will expect her to shut up about it and move on with her life so that they can forget how much their daughter suffered. And then where will she be? She'll probably start drinking, smoking, acting out just to remind people, to remind _herself_, that it happened, that she has a reason to be feeling so messed up. But then that'll stop working too, and she'll look back at those years of being forced to talk to a counsellor and taking whatever medication they prescribe, and it'll finally dawn on her that it's all just a con so that other people can feel better about the world. And she will think of me AND SHE WILL _WISH _I HAD LET HIM KILL HER! At least that way no one would EVER forget her, what the world did to her!"

There was a stunned silence.

"Reid?" came Hotch's cautious voice from where they all stood several yards down the hall, carrying coffee and sandwiches from the hospital café. "Are you alright?"

Reid froze, shocked by his own outburst and scared of what they'd heard.

"I need some air." Was all he said, picking up his coffee off the tray Prentiss was holding as he walked past them towards the exit.

"Wow. If I'd known his need for caffeine was so urgent, I would've had it waiting for him when he got here." Rossi joked weakly to break the tension, but nobody laughed this time, even him.

"Is he okay?" Prentiss asked, confused about what the glances between the three agents meant.

"He's fine. He just needs sleep." Hotch said.

"Like hell he is!" Morgan snapped. They all looked uncomfortable but he didn't care. There was some truth in what Reid said, he realised. People avoided talking about uncomfortable things, swept them under the carpet so the victims were made to feel like they were imposing on other peoples happiness. A part of him knew that it was an unfair contradiction since neither him nor Reid really wanted anyone to know about it anyway, but he didn't know how else to reason out why he was suddenly so angry at them.

He stood up and went after Reid, who was standing outside in front of the building, leaning against the white concrete hospital wall with his eyes closed. He looked too perfect to exist in real life standing there bathed in the pale blue fluorescent glow of the hospital strip lighting. Morgan walked over, his feet crunching in the gravel, and leant on the wall next to Reid. Reid opened his eyes and looked at him, part defiance, part anxiety. Sorta like: 'I'm not going to apologise but I'd really appreciate it if we were cool now.'

"Hey there pretty boy. D'you wanna leave?" Morgan said casually.

Reid smiled and looked up at the stars, which were unusually bright for such a well lit area. Morgan bet he could tell him every constellation in the sky off by heart. Hell, he could probably name every star ever discovered.

"You called me pretty boy again. I wondered if I heard you right the first time."

Morgan blinked. It had slipped out without him noticing. He thanked God that he was black so no one noticed when he blushed. And wait, was he imagining things or did Reid just flirt with him a little bit?

No…

If he did it was probably by accident.

"Sorry…I call Garcia pretty girl a lot and I call you lover boy whenever girls flirt with you...I guess I just get my pet names mixed up sometimes."

Reid turned his head to look at him and pouted.

"You mean I'm not pretty?" his eyes twinkled mischievously.

It only lasted a split second but Morgan was speechless, bowled over by the sheer unintentionally seductive power of that pout. That pout could end wars and feed starving orphans purely with its powers of adorableness.

_That's just not fair pretty boy._

Before he could even try to think of a socially acceptable answer, Reid looked at the floor and smile-mumbled, "I'm sorry. That was awkward. Blame the caffeine." He pointed to his coffee cup like a naughty child blaming a sibling for the mess.

"No!" Morgan said.

Reid raised his eyebrows in confused alarm. "No?"

"No. I mean…No I'm the one who said it in the first place." Morgan said. He tried not to smile at the sudden awkward-first-date kind of vibe which had appeared between them. "So I'm to blame I guess."

Reid laughed, and it looked so natural and happy that it was hard to imagine that just ten minutes ago he'd been talking like he had nothing to live for. With anyone else he would normally comment on their bipolarity, but he knew mental illness was a touchy subject for Reid, so he just shut up and enjoyed the smile.

It was normal to have ups and downs when you were recovering from something like this, he guessed.

"Anyway." Reid said. "I'm a little tired. We should probably go."

"Okay."

"Could you do me a favour?"

_Anything._

"Sure."

"I left my jacket in Lucy's room, and I really don't think I can go back there. Would you mind…?"

"Not at all." Morgan said.

...

Lucy looked up when he walked in, then looked disappointed. She was obviously very attached to Reid in a very short space of time. It was understandable. Lots of the people they saved, especially children and teens, latched onto the first person who showed them kindness. They wanted to keep that secure feeling they got when they'd just been saved by someone. He'd had it happen to him several times. He knew it could lead to trouble, and it made him uneasy but he couldn't bring himself to turn anyone away, and if _he_ couldn't then for Reid it would be impossible to detach himself.

"Hey sweetheart I just came for Dr Reid's jacket."

"He's leaving?" she looked upset.

"Yeah, he's real sorry he couldn't come say goodbye in person, but he told me to tell you…"

Tell her what? Good luck? Hope you get better soon? Ugh. He really needed to think his lies through before he said them. Every phrase he thought of sounded totally artificial or lame, and completely unlike anything Reid would ever say. She'd guess he was lying.

He settled on, "To take care of yourself." just in time to stop the sentence sounding unnatural.

She nodded, not really listening anyway. Morgan picked up Reid's jacket and slung it over his arm. He turned to leave but Lucy called out to him, "Agent Morgan?"

"Yeah? What is it sweetheart?"

"Um…It's just that Dr Reid said if I ever needed to talk to someone I could contact him."

Well that was bending the truth a little going on the conversation he'd heard.

"Would you please give him my cell number and ask him to text me some time?" she asked, holding out a slip of paper.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't explain to this broken child that Reid could get in trouble, that Reid had his own set of problems and it wasn't fair on him. It wasn't fair on her either. It was just a stinking pile of unfairness with no direct cause, no one to blame and punish satisfactorily and no one to save them all.

So he took it and he smiled and gave her a Reid-substitute hug and said goodbye.

He hovered outside the door for a moment, debating with himself. The trouble was, he knew if he told Reid, he would be compelled to save her. That was just who he was. He would take on her problems as well as his own until he sank like a boat full of rocks.

Either way someone would get hurt, but Reid was the one _he_ needed to save.

But he still felt crappy when he screwed the number up and threw it in the bin.

"What was that?" asked Prentiss.

"Nothing. C'mon let's go. I need my bed. And failing that I need a night wedged into the seat of a reasonably comfortable airplane." he put his arm round her shoulders and they started towards the exit.

"Amen to that." She laughed.

**Muahaha ;3 I left you on quite the cliffhanger didn't I? My apologies. I made this chapter quite long to make up for it :P**

**By the way american geography is _hard_. Google maps totally saved my life. But seriously. america is so huge. like for realz, your states are all at least twice the size of the entire island i stand on and judging by the satellite photos most of it is the same colour. i don't understand how anyone can find each other. xD it would make me feel strangely claustrophobic, knowing there were so many people between me and the sea. Which is weird. I don't even like the sea that much. I mean I don't object to it or anything. But living on a tiny island (in comparison anyway) i sort of take it for granted that if one day i was like 'hey i wonder if the sea's still there.' it would never take more than a couple of hours drive to get there no matter where i was.**

**And embarrassingly until I started watching criminal minds where they travel to all the different states i totally thought all american accents were the same and that everywhere looked like florida (that was the only place i ever visited). How wrong I was. Weird scary country :P You do produce some badass TV shows though I'll say that much. And I love how proud you are of your constitutional rights and american dream and stuff. It's adorable. In my country everyones like BLARGH OUR COUNTRY IS AWFUL. YET WE REFUSE TO LEAVE IT BECAUSE IT IS OURS AND WE DON'T WANT THE FOREIGNERS TO HAVE IT.**

**Anyway. To return to my original point, I would like to apologise if any roads or places I mention sound weird or out of context with the story. I've done a bit of research but there's only so far google maps and wikipedia is able to help.**


	10. Chapter 10

Almost everyone was completely asleep by the time the plane took off for home. Even Hotch nodded off while foolishly attempting to grapple with the paperwork generated by the case, held in sitting position by a single elbow and his forehead against the window. He'd be sore as hell tomorrow, Morgan knew from experience, but it was understandable that he tried to cram as much work into work hours as he possibly could since he was the only parent Jack had now.

Morgan wasn't able to sleep, even listening to music didn't help to drown out his worrying. He got up to go to the bathroom, and on his way back he stopped to check on Reid, who was lying under a blanket on his preferred couch. Despite the dim lighting of the darkened plane Morgan could sense almost immediately that Reid was feigning sleep. Morgan crouched down in front of him and brushed a strand of light brown hair, which looked like it was tickling his nose, behind his ear. He then bent forward and whispered;

"For future reference pretty boy, you're never this still when you're asleep. You make faces and noises. And occasionally you recite Star Trek dialogue."

Reid's eyes flicked open.

"You're kidding." He said suspiciously.

"Nuh uh. It's one of your many quirks we've learnt to accommodate over the years. Why d'you think I listen to music?"

"Because you're too dumb to play chess?" Reid suggested with a grin, earning himself an indignant poke in the ribcage, to which he responded with a muffled squawk.

"If that left a bruise I'm totally telling JJ." he mock-glared, sitting up and nursing his side.

Morgan laughed. "Oh yeah? Do you really want me telling Garcia you called me dumb?"

Reid considered this. "Touché." He agreed, shifting to make room for Morgan to sit under the blanket with him.

"So." Morgan said once they were settled. "What's keeping you up?"

"Insomnia is one of the many enjoyable symptoms associated with Dilaudid withdrawal." He explained with a wry smile. "Just when I want nothing more than to be unconscious."

Morgan leaned sideways and gave him a sympathetic shoulder bump.

"You don't have to stay up with me. Seriously." Reid said awkwardly. "It's my own fault for taking the doctor's stuff all at once instead of tapering off it slowly."

Morgan shook his head. "None of this is your fault kid."

Reid nodded unenthusiastically and huddled down further in his side of the blanket. He unconsciously jiggled his right leg up and down restlessly.

"I can't sleep either." Morgan said. "Wanna play cards or something?"

"Even though we both know I'll win?" Reid smirked. His left leg took up the motion and his right leg stilled.

"What can I say? I'm in a masochistic kind of mood."

Reid smiled. "It's okay. I'd rather just talk anyway."

"Okay. What about?"

"I don't know." Reid contemplated for a moment. "Why _you_ can't sleep?" he suggested.

Morgan didn't know what to say. "Uh, just…it's been a difficult case I guess."

Reid nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you before." he said guiltily.

"Don't worry about it." Morgan shook his head dismissively. "Did you mean what you said about refusing the counsellor?"

Reid shrugged. "I don't see the point. I mean I'm already more qualified than most counsellors are to do their jobs. Besides which I can barely bring myself to talk about…what happened, with _you_ and you were _there_ for most of it, so I fail to see how talking to a stranger would improve my wellbeing in the slightest."

"You know Hotch isn't gonna let you get out of this right?"

"I know. I guess I'll probably go to the sessions but it doesn't mean I have to talk to the guy."

"Hotch is just trying to help you."

"He could have _helped_ me by getting us out of there an hour earlier." Reid muttered bitterly.

"You don't need me to tell you that's not fair." Morgan said.

"No I don't." Reid agreed with a harsh laugh which sounded nothing like himself. "And you don't need me to tell you that the world isn't fair."

"That's not an excuse to act like a jerk Reid." Morgan snapped.

Reid raised his eyebrows. It was the first time Morgan had seriously berated him in a long while.

Morgan immediately apologised. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. You have every right to be angry about what happened."

"No." Reid said numbly. "You're right." He didn't elaborate any further. His legs started twitching again.

Eventually he growled in comical frustration and gripped his own knees with his hands, "I can't stop moving my legs! I'm so tired but if I keep them still they feel weird."

Morgan smiled wickedly and swooped forward, pulling the young man's long skinny legs across his lap. He started massaging them.

Reid laughed uncomfortably. "No it's okay you don't have to…oh. That helps." his expression changed to reluctant enjoyment.

Morgan looked smug. "Healing hands. Or so Garcia tells me."

Reid eventually relaxed, rearranged his two pillows behind his back and rested his head against the back of the couch, watching Morgan's hands sleepily.

Morgan was happy he'd finally found a way to help, though admittedly the idea of massaging the legs of the boy he was desperately trying not to fancy, across his lap, wasn't his finest plan. Not that it was that much of a problem, he was perfectly capable of controlling himself. It was just that it made him a little guilty how much he enjoyed doing it, considering Reid didn't know he liked him and everything. But if it helped Reid sleep he figured it was worth it.

The last thing he remembered of the flight before he fell asleep, was noticing Reid's amusing sock pairing, one of which had black and yellow stripes and one which had what looked suspiciously like a Pikachu on it.

What the hell was wrong with his libido that he found this so attractive in a grown man?

...

The next day Morgan got into the BAU to find a strange white male in his early thirties munching a bagel and poking through some confidential files which were on Prentiss's desk, while absentmindedly bouncing a small, clear rubber ball on the floor next to him.

"Um, sir you shouldn't be doing that." he asked, confused. The man jumped back in surprise, putting his hands the air as if holding the bagel hostage under gunfire.

"I'm _so_ sorry, is this your bagel?"

"Uh…no…I meant the case files you're looking through without authorisation." This just got weirder.

"Oh right…then I totally didn't steal this." The man relaxed. "Hey did this serial killer really eat seven people? That's gross."

"How did you get in here?" Morgan asked.

"Aaron asked me to drop by."

"Aaron? As in Hotchner?"

Right on cue Hotch came out of his office, clutching a stack of files and looking slightly agitated.

"Ah there you are, sorry, we've just received a bunch of new students and they all need a Psych Eval. Morgan this is the private counsellor I told you about, Dr Adam Young."

"Oh, right…I was going to call you." Morgan shook hands with him. Young had dark scruffy hair which curled around his ears. It was too short to be called long and too long to be called short. He had a bright, intelligent looking face and cheerful demeanour despite being dressed rather casually in a brown leather baseball jacket and jeans. He was nothing like Morgan had expected him to be. He had expected someone Gideon or Rossi's age, not someone so…well. Young.

"I know, but I couldn't risk taking you and Reid on another case before you had your assessments, so I thought it would be better to get it out of the way now." Hotch explained.

Morgan nodded. "Where are we doing this then? The BAU?"

Just then Rossi entered the room.

"Did somebody eat my bagel?" he asked irritably.

Without so much as a twitch Young slipped his hand behind his back, casually opened Prentiss's desk drawer and slipped the remains of the stolen snack inside.

"I thought my car would be a suitable location." He smiled pleasantly and started towards the elevator. Morgan exchanged amused glances with Hotch and then followed.

"Where's your car?" Morgan asked as they left the building.

"Oh I don't have a car. We're actually going to the nearest hotdog stand I can find. That bagel really sucked." He looked put out.

"I'll tell Rossi to bring something better next time." Morgan said.

"I like tuna." Apparently he didn't register sarcasm so well.

After obtaining Young's hotdog they sat down on the back of a metal bench in a deserted kids play area. Morgan's mind raced with questions as he watched the man eat and bounce-catch his ball off a concrete wall.

"You know, some people are really put off their food when people stare at them." Young said.

Morgan continued to stare.

"By the way, if you're wondering whether there's any Freudian significance to us being in a children's park eating hotdogs, I swear that was just a happy coincidence." Young said.

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"Okay…psychology jokes aren't your thing then. Just trying to break the ice." Young laughed. "You're friendly aren't you?"

Morgan remembered that he had planned to cooperate and relaxed his posture slightly. He knew he looked threatening when he didn't smile because of his muscles and height and everything.

"Sorry. You're just not what I expected."

Young nodded, mouth full of hotdog. "I know. I keep thinking maybe I should grow a beard. People respect psychologists more when they have beards."

Morgan laughed this time.

"How did Hotch find your sense of humour?" he asked.

Young grimaced. "He didn't. I was surprised he asked for my help again actually. I thought he really disliked me."

One of his throws went a little off the mark and Morgan put his hand out to catch it. Young looked strangely upset at missing the ball, but then turned it into a game of back and forth between them.

"So I'm guessing Hotch told you what happened to us." Morgan said after a while.

Young stopped throwing the ball and looked at him, his playful expression suddenly serious.

"He gave me a rough description yeah. It would be helpful if you could tell me in your own words though. Thoughts, feelings, you're a profiler you know the drill."

Morgan opened his mouth to speak but then ended up shutting it again. He wasn't unhappy about the counselling like Reid, he wanted the guy's help, but now he was actually faced with the task of talking about it, he found he just couldn't tell a guy he'd only known for half an hour about something so personal.

"I can't." he finally admitted. "I thought I could but I can't."

Young nodded. "I get that. You know it all stays between us though, if you ever do. Even though I'll be treating your friend Dr Reid as well, nothing you say gets back to him and nothing he says gets back to you."

Morgan nodded. The ball throwing game started up again.

"So tell me about Dr Reid then. How long have you worked together?"

"Nearly five years."

"You two get on well?"

"Yeah sure. He's like a kid brother to me y'know?" Morgan said, concentrating on throwing the ball as he recited the well-rehearsed understatement of his feelings for Reid.

"You got any real brothers?" Young said after catching the ball.

"Nah, two sisters."

"You get along with them?"

"I do now. Not so much when I was a kid. Having three women in the house constantly nagging me wasn't my idea of heaven when I was younger."

"What did they nag you about?"

"The usual. Fighting, cutting school, hanging with the wrong crowd."

"What about your dad?"

"He…uh…he died. When I was ten. He was a policeman, shot in the line of duty. I saw it happen."

"I'm sorry. Was that why you acted out?"

"I don't know. I missed him a lot. But I was proud of him too. It made me want to work for the FBI. I wanted to be like him I guess, cos my mom missed him so much. The trouble I got into was just teenage stupidity I think."

"Well you lost your role model. That's hard for any kid to deal with. So exactly how much trouble did you get into?"

"Quite a lot. I almost got a criminal record, but…" he realised the conversation was rapidly heading towards Buford. "…it was expunged."

Young noticed the change in his expression.

"Oh? How come?"

"A guy from the local youth centre said he'd take responsibility for me." Morgan said, throwing the ball harder than he meant to so it bounced too high off the wall and soared over their heads. He couldn't keep the loathing out of his voice.

"You didn't like him?" Young asked curiously.

"He wasn't a good guy. Everyone thought he was…but he wasn't." For the first time Morgan looked directly at him instead of the wall as he spoke.

"What did he do?"

Morgan debated with himself for a long time, but then he shook his head. "I'm sorry…I can't."

"Oh God, that bad?" Young hopped over the back of the bench to retrieve the ball.

"We went back there on a case recently. He murdered two boys. Probably more."

"But you knew before then. What he was." Young said, wiping grass off the ball with his sleeve and bouncing it one handed on the seat of the bench between his legs.

Morgan nodded and watched the ball again.

"He abused you."

"Is there a point to these questions? It was a long time ago." Morgan said sharply and looked away

"There might be a point. I don't know. From the fact that you deflected the question so expertly I think we can deduce that you haven't come to terms with it yet."

"Yeah, it messed me up! Jesus I'm a profiler, do you think I hadn't considered that? Tell me something I don't know."

"When you're concentrating on stopping yourself from saying too much your throwing speed increases by 3.5 milliseconds." Young said casually. "More or less anyway."

Morgan was stunned. "What?"

"When you want to hide what you're thinking you focus more on the ball, not on the rhythm."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope."

"You can't possibly know that."

"It's a simple enough calculation involving distance and the timing of a known rhythm which I set the pace for. Some people can't get the rhythm at all or they can't catch for shit so it doesn't work so well, but it seems to come naturally to you when you don't overthink it. You ever consider taking up drumming?"

Morgan stared at him in disbelief. "Something tells me you and Reid are gonna hit it off."

"Speaking of Dr Reid, it's time for his session now. Do you have any other questions or issues you'd like to discuss before we head back?"

"Uh, no I'm alright."

"Cool." Young bounced the ball hard on the ground one last time and then put it in his pocket.

...

"For the last time Rossi I did not steal your Goddamn bagel! I am _allergic_ to tomatoes!" Prentiss was shouting as Young and Morgan re-entered the BAU. Hotch had retreated to his office and Reid was pretending to look for something in a filing cabinet to avoid getting dragged into the confrontation.

"Look, I'm not even mad okay? I'm just saying, there are certain boundaries you just don't cross with people you work with!" Rossi said.

"Hey Dr Reid!" Young yelled to get the young man's attention. "THINK FAST!" and he proceeded to throw the ball at the bewildered genius before Morgan could warn him that this was a bad idea.

Reid's instinctive reaction was to turn his face away and swipe blindly at the incoming missile in an attempt to divert it, which succeeded, but unfortunately diverted it straight into Prentiss's coffee cup, soaking her face and chest. She gasped speechlessly, and the thunderous look on her face sent every man in the room scurrying for cover. Rossi mysteriously lost interest in pursuing justice for his bagel and disappeared into his office.

"Oh Dude! I'm so sorry ma'am that was totally stupid of me!" Young laughed for a few seconds before realising she did not look amused.

"How about I buy you another one after you're done here?" he winked.

"No…you're alright." She said icily, and disappeared into the bathroom to change her top.

"Wow for a psychologist you really suck with women." Morgan grinned and clapped him on the back. "I've seen serial killers get a warmer reception from her."

Young looked depressed.

"Will someone please explain to me what he's doing here?" Reid asked.

"Young." Young held out his hand.

"I'm twenty eight!" Reid snapped automatically.

"Oh. Unusual name." Young said with a grin. "But okay Twenty-eight, it's time for your session now."

"Uh Reid, this is Dr Adam Young. He's the counsellor Hotch wanted us to see."

Reid looked at him, at first with surprise and then with fury.

"What the hell's he doing at work!?" he hissed at Morgan. "I thought this was meant to be private! Hotch had no right-"

"It's an unofficial interview. The others don't know why he's here."

"I'm not doing this now!" Reid said stubbornly.

"Why not? It's just a chat." Young said.

"Because…I'm busy!"

"We don't have a case Reid." Morgan pointed out.

"Yeah well since every single person in this team seems to think it's their god given right to sneak half their paperwork into my pile just because I have an eidetic memory it takes me a whole lot longer okay?"

"You have an eidetic memory?" Young said. "Cool."

Reid ignored him.

"Look I'll do yours if you want. This is more important. Hotch wouldn't want you to miss it." Morgan said.

Reid looked at him desperately. "I don't _want_ this Morgan. I'm fine!"

"If you're fine then what are you so afraid of?" Young asked.

Reid didn't reply.

"I can come back after your work hours if it's more convenient for you." Young said politely.

Reid picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"Now is fine." He said irritably.

Young fished his ball out of Prentiss's abandoned coffee cup and they left.

...

Young sighed and looked at the clock of the coffee shop they were in. Forty five minutes of their time were up and Reid had still refused to give anything but the minimal possible response, to anything but a direct question.

"Hey Twenty-eight, want to hear a psychology joke?"

"Not particularly."

"How many psychoanalysts does it take to change a light bulb?"

"I don't know."

"Only one, but the light bulb has to want to change."

"…"

"Okay so it's not my best. I know a hilarious poem about schizophrenia but I hear that's a touchy subject with you."

"Are you really trying to annoy me into talking about my issues? That's your cunning plan?"

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm just bored." Young smirked. "Sounding a little _paranoid_ aren't we?"

Reid gave him an unimpressed look.

Young gave up and dedicated the remaining ten minutes to making an origami crane out of a napkin. He was folding down the wings when he noticed Reid was watching him.

"You like origami?" Reid asked, reminded of the story of Sadako Sasaki, the japanese girl who tried to fold 1000 cranes before she died of cancer. He would have normally brought this up, but he was determined to minimise any conversation between them.

"Yeah a little. Do you?"

"I don't know. I never tried it."

"So try it. I'm sure that fantastic memory of yours catalogued every step already." Young chucked a napkin at him.

"I don't need to see the steps. I can work it out in my head from the finished version. It's just angles."

"No way. I demand proof. ORIGAMI DUEL. Close your eyes Twenty-eight."

Reid rested his chin on his hand and raised his eyes to the ceiling before deciding it was easier just to go along with what the man wanted. When he opened his eyes there was a lopsided origami penguin sitting self-deprecatingly in front of him.

He leaned forward in his seat to look at it from every angle. It took him less than a minute to visualise the folds, and in less than two minutes he had completely replicated it.

Young picked up the two penguins and laughed. "Cool."

"Are we done?" Reid stood up.

"We were done before we got started Twenty-eight." Young said, his voice slightly less warm than before.

Reid started to leave, but suddenly felt bad about his behaviour.

"I'm sorry. It's nothing personal, I just don't think this will work." He tried to explain.

"Because you're smarter than me?"

"I didn't say that." Reid said defensively.

"No, it's a valid argument since you clearly are." Young said lightly, tearing the tops off sugar packets and pouring the sugar into his mouth. "I know I'm smart, but you just figured out intuitively something I could only learn by memorising steps and practising. Like in mathematics you get average people who just use a function on a calculator, and then you get a few people who actually understand why it works. But," he said, pointing at Reid with a coffee stirrer. "The advantage I have on you, is that the information I receive by watching you is condensed so that I only get it in its simplest form. So I'm given a join-the-dots puzzle, while you have a pack of hyperactive Dalmatians running around and refusing to sit still."

Reid stared at him.

"That metaphor actually makes sense." He said, surprised. "But it doesn't change the fact that I don't want to talk about my personal life to someone I hardly know."

"I assume that by personal life you mean the fact that you were raped."

Reid froze. "Shut…shut _up_! We're in a public place!" he hissed, going pale.

"Only you can't talk about that to anyone, not even yourself by the look of things." Young continued. "So it really makes no difference, in fact it's far less scary with a stranger because you're the one in control here. So actually I think you're just making excuses to avoid talking about something which makes you feel afraid and uncomfortable."

"I'm going back to work."

Young shrugged. "Very nice meeting you Twenty-eight. You can pick the location next time if you prefer."

The sound of the coffee shop door slamming shut was his only reply.


	11. Chapter 11

Reid was fuming when he left the coffee shop after his appointment with that asshole Young. He wanted to go straight home, but he couldn't let Hotch think he wasn't able to cope with work if he ever wanted to shake that obnoxious counsellor off.

He walked back to the BAU and went to the restroom, mostly just to stall for time. He was in the middle of washing his hands when he thought he felt somebody's fingers brush against the back of his neck. He breathed in sharply and looked up at the mirror, his hand flying up to cover his neck.

But there was no one else in the room. He looked in all the stalls and no one was there. His racing heart started to calm down. He leaned over the sink, his hands either side. He closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. A guy came into the restroom and gave him a funny look. He jerked back from the sink, trying to disguise his weirdness. He dried his hands hastily.

He left the restroom and entered the bullpen and walked quickly to his desk. Morgan looked up.

"Hey. You okay?" he asked Reid casually, though his eyes looked concerned.

He responded with a clipped "Yep." and sat down.

Morgan didn't look convinced but he let the issue drop. Reid started working through his stack of files. He couldn't focus as well as he normally could, but he still got through them pretty quickly, and having nothing else to do for the remaining half hour he picked up a folder JJ had dropped into his tray a while back.

It contained a birth certificate, social services report, medical records and employee records for Tom Faraday.

He'd flicked through it before he and Morgan went to question a different suspect, but without the benefit of hindsight he now had, he'd been unable to piece the story together. They had really only considered the brothers as an afterthought because Tom had a criminal record for shoplifting and a parent in the military, and had worked as a kitchen boy for the police academy attended by one of the victims. He was missing several huge pieces of the profile though, no history of sexual misconduct, not homosexual to their knowledge, and their house wasn't in the range of the geographical profile.

That was why no one found them for days. They hadn't thought to tell anyone they were stopping off to question the Faradays on the way home since it was on their way and they were running out of time. It was two days before JJ thought to check his desk to see if the file was still there and found where Reid had circled the address. Then it took even longer because the Faradays hadn't actually kept them at their current address but at their childhood home, though Reid and Morgan only found this out when they were rescued since they were both unconscious and blindfolded when they were transported. Reid had just woken up in a strange basement while Morgan had regained consciousness in the trunk of the car, and was only occasionally let out to stop his muscles completely seizing up, or when the brothers wanted to hurt him.

Reid stared at the photo of Tom. He looked much younger, around 17. Even in an individual photo of him the side of Eric's face and a bit of his arm was in the frame a little further back, keeping brotherly watch. Tom's dirty blonde hair was longer and fell in front of his ears in straggly tails either side of his chin. He looked sullen and unhappy, there was a bruise half hidden by the neck of his T-shirt and his arm was in a sling. His face had been thinner back then, angrier and more human. The cold black eyes were the same though. Reid wondered whether the eyes in this photo had seen his beloved older brother rape and beat a teenage junkie to death in the basement yet, or had it started later?

"Hey kid, how you getting home?" Morgan asked from behind him, making him jump.

"Uh…bus probably. Why?" Reid slipped the file into his bag to read at home.

Morgan gave him a funny look. "Sorry if I startled you, I was just gonna offer you a ride."

"You didn't, I was just spaced out." Reid rubbed his forehead with his sleeve tiredly. "And thanks for the offer, but I live in practically the opposite direction to you."

"Okay, allow me to clarify, by 'offer you a ride' I actually meant; 'I _am_ driving you home even if I have to put a chloroform rag over your mouth and _drag_ you to the car myself.'" Morgan laughed, but the look in his eyes said he wasn't joking.

Reid gave him a tight smile. "Right, well I'm nearly done here. Two minutes."

Morgan nodded and took the seat next to him.

"So how'd it go with Young?" he asked in a low voice. Most of the others had left by now but Reid still looked up to check no one could hear them.

"Fine."

"Fine?" Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Having met him myself I find it hard to believe that that's your genuine response to him."

"Okay. Then I think he's a jerk."

Morgan grimaced. "What did he do?"

"He _knew_ I wasn't comfortable talking about what happened to us, but he decided to bring it up anyway in the middle of a public coffee shop!" Reid said angrily.

"Oh. Wow." Morgan said, surprised. "That was…inappropriate."

"Yeah _thank you_. I thought so too." Reid snapped sarcastically.

"Okay I know he's a pain in the ass, and he has no respect for other people's lunch, but...I don't know...Hotch obviously chose him for a reason. If he thought we needed a regular therapist then we'd have a middle aged guy with a beard and a couch, but he chose Young. I don't know why but something tells me we can trust this guy."

"I'm glad you feel that way." Reid said, almost inaudibly. He didn't sound sarcastic or bitter anymore. Reid seemed genuinely happy that Morgan had faith in Young, but determined that there was no way he could ever be convinced to trust him.

"We should go." he said, and stood up before Morgan could figure out what to say.

They were silent all the way to Morgan's car. It was an awkward, prickly, despairing silence. Meaning Reid was prickly, Morgan was despairing and they both felt awkward.

Neither of them said anything at all until Morgan started the car and the Coldplay CD he'd been listening to started playing the song Fix You. Reid broke the silence to ask who it was by and Morgan told him.

"It's nice." Reid said absentmindedly.

"Yeah? I thought you only liked classical music?" Morgan grinned.

"There are some exceptions."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Um…this."

Morgan laughed.

"It's one of the songs I listen to on the plane to help me sleep." He shared.

"I could use some recommendations." Reid sighed, leaning his elbow on the windowsill.

"You're still not sleeping?" Morgan raised his eyebrows sympathetically.

"Not so much no." Reid said through gritted teeth.

"No wonder you were in such a cheerful mood today." Morgan said, with a playful smirk.

There was no reply.

"Reid?" Morgan said.

He looked over at his friend. His head was bowed, and a tear track glimmered gold on his cheek at intervals whenever a streetlamp shone its soft yellow light into the car. He'd brought the back of his hand up to his mouth to try and stifle the sobs which were fighting to get out of him, but when he realised Morgan had seen, he finally let go of them in a painful gasp, doubling over and turning away. He covered his face with his wrists, embarrassed to be showing any weakness in front of a colleague.

"Oh Reid. Shhh, shhh it's okay, it's okay." Morgan said in dismay, letting go of the steering wheel with his right hand and placing it on the back of Reid's neck soothingly. He pulled over to the side of the road as soon as he could.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and knelt across his seat so he could pull his friend into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around the young man's skinny frame helplessly. He knew Reid would probably prefer to hide his face while he cried, so he hugged him in a way that meant his head was tucked under Morgan's chin and his forehead rested against his left shoulder. Reid kept apologising through his tears over and over and Morgan asked what he was sorry for but Reid couldn't seem to hear him so Morgan just told him it was okay, over and over. It was like nothing he said could reach him. He'd never seen Reid fall apart like this before, even in the most awful circumstances.

And for the millionth time, sitting in his car in the rain and the dark on the side of the road, holding his incredibly strong, incredibly brave best friend shaking in his arms like a terrified child, Morgan thought about how much he wanted to kill Eric Faraday.

"Shhh." Tear his eyes out of their sockets, rip out his filthy fingernails one by one. "It's okay pretty boy, it's okay." Put every fucked up M.O. of every serial killer he'd encountered to good use in making it the most painful death imaginable. He had a more than plentiful back catalogue of expertise to refer to after all.

And then he realised (for the millionth time) that it was the same monster snarling from within him as the one which had long ago consumed Eric and started this whole mess. And so he chose to think about how much he wanted to kiss Reid right now instead, how much he wanted to take him home and hold him all night and tell him how perfect he was.

He understood all too well that this had had to happen one way or another, and he was glad that it had happened while he was there to hug him through it. Reid was faced with a whole load of overwhelming feelings he couldn't find an explanation for, which had no logical cause and effect, no rational solution. And although Morgan automatically detested anyone who used robot similes to describe Reid, in this case he could see that Reid _was_ sort of like a computer, being slowly run down by a virus he couldn't recognise.

He stroked Reid's soft brown hair as he slowly came out of it and quietened down, apart from the odd spasm, and eventually he sat upright by himself and stopped clutching Morgan's arm like it was the only thing stopping him from going over a waterfall. Reid pulled the sleeves of his wheat-brown cardigan down over his hands and dried his tears with them, and his breathing calmed down but it was still several minutes before he could speak again.

Reid stared at the dashboard, a frown of concentration on his face as he tried to organise his scrambled emotions.

"I'm really sorry." He said finally, his voice croaky from crying. "About how I've been acting, ever since…you know. I don't know why I'm like this." He couldn't meet Morgan's eyes. "I'm so _angry_ with everyone, _all the time_, and they haven't done anything, and I hate myself for doing it but I can't help it."

"I know kid. I know." Morgan put a hand on his skinny shoulder. "And it's okay to be angry, _really_. You're going through a tough time lately, everybody knows that. And they understand."

Reid shook his head, frowning. "You're not angry. You're not biting people's heads off whenever they try and help you."

"Oh I'm angry alright." Morgan leaned his head back against the headrest. "I don't let you see it but that doesn't mean it's not there."

"How do you do it?"

"Contain it you mean? I don't know. I guess I'm used to it, doing what we do."

He took his hand off Reid's shoulder and took his phone out of his pocket. He flicked through some photos before showing Reid a picture of him at one of his old properties, knocking down a wall with a sledgehammer.

"And I carry out a controlled explosion once in a while. To let my anger out."

"Who took that picture?" Reid asked curiously.

"Uh…just some…girl I hung with for a bit back then." Morgan muttered awkwardly. Oops. He put the phone away hurriedly.

Reid raised his eyebrows knowingly. "Some girl huh?" He thought for a moment, then smirked. "So _that's_ what you meant by a controlled explosion."

"Oh you dirty boy! Ugh. What would JJ say if she knew?" Morgan laughed and ruffled his hair. "Don't you go getting any ideas now. Casual sex is not the answer. You're gonna wait 'til you're married, d'you hear me young man?"

"Hypocrite." Reid laughed.

"Why don't you come to my place?" Morgan offered. "Just for tonight. I'll even promise to let you watch Star Trek all night long and eat as much jello as you want."

Reid was torn for a second. He really _really_ wanted to accept the invitation. The nights were long and lonely now he wasn't sleeping, and having Morgan there would make it easier to bear. But the side effects of withdrawal were embarrassing sometimes, and whenever he did slip out of consciousness he often woke himself up shouting and violently thrashing. Morgan wouldn't know what to do and he'd probably panic and call somebody and no one would get any sleep and it would be all his fault. Besides, Morgan didn't really want a headcase like him cramping his style. He was just freaked out by all the crying and wanted to make sure he was okay, because he was a good guy like that.

"Thanks for the offer, but I have some things I need to do at home." He smiled, not meeting Morgan's eyes.

"Some other time then." Morgan said with good-humoured sarcasm, starting the car again and steering them off the side of the road.

...

Morgan pulled up outside Reid's place and turned off the engine.

"You don't have to walk me up or anything." Reid said quickly, suddenly feeling shy at the prospect of being alone with Morgan in his apartment again, since the last time they had sort of ended up cuddling until Reid had sort of thrown him out.

"Oh. Well, night then I guess. Call me if you change your mind, or just…if you can't sleep and you need someone to talk to." Morgan said. He knew Reid wouldn't dream of waking somebody up in the middle of the night for anything less than an alien invasion/zombie apocalypse, but he wanted to offer anyway.

Reid nodded and got out. He was about to shut the door when Morgan said "Wait," and pressed the eject button on the stereo. "You can borrow this if you like." He handed the Coldplay CD to Reid.

"Thanks." Reid smiled, taking it carefully between his finger and thumb.

Morgan waited for him to close the front door behind him, then drove away.

...

Reid dropped his keys in the bowl, hung up his coat and began his ritual of going round turning the lights on everywhere.

It was a stupidly big place for one person. He had bought it without really considering what it would be like to live here, since he would happily have lived in a shed if it meant he could be a profiler, and the apartments were all far nicer than what he'd had to put up with at college anyway, so he'd pretty much accepted the first place he visited. As a result it was a strange mixture of empty space and clutter, so you would never guess that every room belonged to the same man.

His favourite room was his bedroom, because on two of its four walls were wall-to-wall bookcases. The wall opposite the door had a large window above the head of his double bed. Next to his bed there was a dark wooden dresser on one side and a matching bedside table and wardrobe on the other. The last wall, had his bedroom door on the left side, while the other side was covered with film posters and had a small brown leather reading couch against it.

It was like his own personal library, a cosy grotto of knowledge, and he loved to think of ever more efficient and aesthetically pleasing ways of organising his books, like a proud grandparent lining up photographs of their family on the mantelpiece. There was a shelf for old history books, especially medieval history and Arthurian legends, books on physics, chemistry, maths, medicinal biology economics, politics and geography, various foreign language dictionaries, a few biographies, what would appear to an outsider to be a worryingly large section on serial killers and criminology, and perhaps an equally worrying abundance of comic books for an almost thirty-year-old.

Beside his bed were some of his favourite novels, ones which were like old friends to him. (He was aware that his habit of comparing books to real-life relationships was probably mildly unhealthy, but since he had grown up with Chaucer and Shakespeare as his big brothers, and although he was _pretty _sure his mother liked him the best, there were days when he genuinely felt a touch of sibling rivalry between him and Chaucer, it was a habit he was stuck with.)

He'd recently got rid of his beloved single bed with superhero bedding sets in favour of a more mature double bed with plain white sheets and a deep maroon duvet, to match the beautiful Moroccan rug on his bedroom floor, which he took with him from his old bedroom when he moved out. His parents bought it on their honeymoon (the second best thing they brought home with them, his dad would always say with a wink, ruffling his hair). He didn't quite know what had prompted the bedding change, since he didn't exactly plan on bringing anyone back here. Like ever. He supposed it was nice to have the option though. And he was glad of his decision since Morgan's spontaneous visit the other night. He was not yet prepared for Morgan to see just how much of a geek he was.

He still had his batman night light, though thankfully Morgan didn't seem to have noticed that.

There were more bookshelves in the living room which mainly held science journals and everyday books like cook books and DIY for dummies, (his Spaghetti Bolognese was a dish to behold, though he feared he would never get the hang of DIY. Last time he bought a flat-packed dresser he'd got in a terrible muddle and stressed himself out so much that he ended up accidentally sticking a nail into his hand crucifixion style and had to call JJ, whom he allowed to drive him to the hospital on the strict condition that she was absolutely not allowed to tell the team about it. She henceforth banned him from attempting to build/assemble/fix anything without her supervision and he agreed wholeheartedly.) Even with all the bookshelves there wasn't enough room, they overflowed onto the floor and formed a labyrinth of precarious waist-high stacks.

The rest of the living room was practically empty, not that he lacked furniture, it was just that the room was so large that spreading the furniture across it made him feel slightly agoraphobic, so he just arranged his stuff at one end and pretended the room was half the size, using a large free standing book shelf as a partition. He had a comfy couch and armchair, a coffee table, a fairly nice TV, though he bought it more to follow social convention than because he used it. There was a telescope by the window, a large desk next to it with his laptop, which was buried in a mound of papers from the philosophy degree he was working on, then there was his keyboard standing against the opposite wall. There was a ton of clutter in the furniture area as he was terrible for letting things pile up.

He had to admit, his apartment looked like it housed an obsessive compulsive neat freak who was keeping a messy ADHD teenage boy prisoner in the corner of every room with strategically placed invisible force fields.

Satisfied that there were no sinister presences in his dwelling, he went through to the kitchen, made himself a hot chocolate and sat on the couch to drink it. He felt a little tired, so he decided to try going to bed. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, changed into a grey flannel T-shirt and pyjama bottoms, ran a comb through his hair and got into bed.

For a couple of minutes it was okay, he felt relaxed and able to think about nice things, like Morgan and how he wanted to tell him that he liked the CD he'd lent him. But then he ran out of nice things and his mind decided to torture itself by thinking about how he was all alone, and had he _really_ shut the front door behind him or had he forgotten it when he went to turn on all the lights? He didn't think it was likely since he turned on the lights every time he came in and had somehow always remembered to shut the door in the past, but what if this time was different? What if this time as he lay there wasting time an unsub was slowly creeping towards his bedroom, unable to believe his luck at stumbling upon a vulnerable young man who had idiotically forgotten to close his front door? And even if he had shut the door, would that be enough? Should he have put the chain across it as well?

But now he'd turned all the lights off. He couldn't be out of bed for more than ten seconds when the lights were off. That would give the monsters time to wake up and notice him.

Not that he seriously believed there were monsters in his apartment, but still. It made him uncomfortable.

He lay there twitching anxiously. This was ridiculous. He was twenty eight years old. What's more, he was an _American_ twenty eight year old, and Americans did not allow monsters to screw with them on their own damned property. If there were monsters, he would chase them off with a shotgun and some menacing hand gestures, while threatening to sue them for trespassing on his land.

Metaphorically of course. In a literal sense all he was doing was sprinting to the light switch and looking around warily before passing into the next room and repeating the process until he reached the front door. Which was shut. Of course. He put the chain across and went back to bed, temporarily satisfied and slightly amused by his own stupidity.

So far he was feeling okay. Embarrassingly this sort of behaviour was actually a pretty normal occurrence for him.

But then he started hearing voices. And that wasn't okay. At all.

It started around two in the morning. He'd given up on trying to fall asleep and was about to get up to go to the bathroom again, when he heard a small shuffling noise from the other room, and some low murmuring, like someone talking. He froze, unable to even breathe, his heart going crazy in his chest. He looked around for his phone, but then remembered he'd left it in his bag. His gun was on the bedside table, but he couldn't make himself move to grab it, too scared of being heard. A feeling of complete powerlessness washed over him, the same feeling he got when he was tied up and weak from the drugs and Eric had given the order for Tom to remove his clothes in front of Morgan. It was like being stuck in a nightmare where he couldn't move his limbs.

He shut out the memories and forced himself to sit up and grab the gun. He slipped out of bed, sick and cold and shaking with fear, and reached around the bedroom door, put his finger on the light switch and counted to three in his head before flicking on the light, pushing the door open and pointing his gun into the room.

To his bewildered relief, there was no one there, even though he'd clearly heard someone speaking from that room. He checked all the rooms multiple times, checked the stereo to see if it had somehow turned on by itself, but it was turned off at the switch so that was impossible. He supposed it may have been a neighbour talking, but he was certain they were coming from _inside this room_. He'd lived there for years and never had he heard a neighbour talk so loudly that it sounded like they were in his apartment.

Fear echoed through him again as his brain suggested another possibility, but he immediately pushed it away. He _always_ thought it was that. Every time he heard a spooky noise and nobody else did, he always leapt to that conclusion and it was always just his own stupidity to blame.

He put the gun back in his room and then went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine. He didn't drink all that often, but he happened to have a bottle at the back of the cupboard which the girl in the room below his, Lindsay, brought over as a gift for helping her pass her college exams last spring, and which for some reason he hadn't wanted to throw away. (Okay, maybe because the girl was really cute.)

And if there was ever a time in his life where he could be forgiven for drinking, he figured, this was it. He put the TV on quietly to get back a feeling of normality, and got out the files on Tom Faraday. It would only have taken a normal reader around an hour of reading to piece together the man's entire life story, there was so little in his file. Reid did it in ten minutes.

He and Eric were born and raised in rural Virginia, to a Mr Thomas Charles Faraday and his wife, Catherine Alice Faraday. The brothers came from a military background. Their father was an army general, as the team had profiled from the way the corpses of the young male victims had been found tied up using specific type of knot widely used by the military. They lived in a small, friendly town with a nice house and a white picket fence. They kept chickens and ducks and had three horses.

On the surface their lives seemed perfect. There was nothing to explain how such a twisted incestuous relationship had formed between Eric and his younger brother. Until Reid looked at the medical records for Tom and found that the doctor had diagnosed him with_ syphilis_ at the age of _nine, _though the doctor's notes were so vague that they might as well have been written in code. He'd probably been blackmailed by the father. You didn't get to such a high ranking position in the army without knowing how to make people dance for you.

Assuming the abuse started with Eric at the same age, possibly sooner, that would explain their inability to understand platonic love. The brothers formed an incredibly deep bond, but as a result of this abuse, the only way they knew how to express this love for each other was through sexual gratification.

It also explained their hatred and fascination with men in positions of authority, and their desire to recreate the abuse in a psychodrama with Reid playing the role of the submissive male and Morgan as the abusive alpha, representing them and their father during their formative sexual experiences. Maybe that was why they gave him a pain relieving sedative narcotic like Dilaudid, but didn't give any to Morgan. In their own twisted way they sympathised with him. Or they just wanted to increase Morgan's guilt, having to take advantage of his friend when his defences were weakened and he couldn't fight back.

He rubbed his temples wearily. He was getting a sharp, piercing headache round the frontal lobe, probably due to stress and sleep deprivation. The alcohol was starting to help take the edge off a little though. He took a break to go get a couple of aspirin.

He also found out that Tom was sent to boarding school at age fourteen, at the same time as sixteen year old Eric was expelled from the Catholic school they both had previously attended, for 'lewd behaviour,' (From what Reid could gather it sounded as if he had started openly touching himself in front of his class in the locker room when his PE teacher had ordered him to take off his clothes.) and was working on a nearby farm. Reading between the lines, Reid guessed this was around the time the boys hit puberty. His parents must have guessed something wasn't right between them, and his father would have realised what his abuse had turned them into. How did he feel, Reid wondered in disgust, the first time he walked in on his two sons kissing? Was he angry? Sick? Did he feel guilty for what he'd done? How did the boys react? Knowing Eric's borderline personality, he probably loved it. It would have been the perfect revenge. He would have started flaunting it, hinting about their relationship in public to embarrass his father.

And when Tom was subsequently taken away to boarding school, it was only a matter of months before Eric turned 17 and his mother and father mysteriously vanished off the face of the earth, tragically never to be seen again. The ownership of the house passed to Eric, who it was decided, was self-sufficient enough to both live on his own and retain custody of his younger brother.

They mostly kept themselves to themselves after that. They bought themselves a new house in the city with the army pension and life insurance, and quickly squandered the rest of it away, probably by self-medicating on drugs and alcohol to try and obliterate what remained of their human emotions. Tom got arrested for shoplifting and briefly saw a therapist as part of his mandatory community service rehabilitation programme. The therapist reported that he had extensive affectionless psychopathy combined with a dependent personality disorder and several learning disabilities including dyslexia. He had extremely stunted emotional development, with a very tenuous grasp on what constituted appropriate social conduct, especially towards women.

However, the therapist later concluded that initial diagnosis had been too hasty, and that by the end of the programme Tom was a reformed character. Reid wondered whether Eric had bribed her what remained of his father's cash, or whether he had threatened her too?

That was where the paper trail ended. A sad lifetime of horrific abuse, ending in the brutal murder of over fifty young men. Reid put down the file and mentally patted himself down for a moment, checking for any further emotional injury and trying to decide how he should feel about this new insight into the two men who had violated him.

All he came up with was 'exhausted'. He just wanted to sleep. So much. He never realised how much he took being able to sleep every night for granted. He was so tired but his body just wouldn't let him drift off. He wanted to cry he was so tired. And it was so dark outside. He shouldn't have to be awake when it was dark. He hated the dark.

He rubbed his tired eyes and slumped back into the couch. When he opened them he looked at the window and saw his reflection.

There was a figure standing behind the couch.

He cried out in shock and leapt up, grabbing the closest hard object and turning to face the intruder.

There was no one standing behind him.

Which was fortunate, since the weapon in his hand was the TV remote.

The blood pounded in his ears as adrenaline shot through his system for the second time that night. He let out a frustrated groan and dropped the remote onto the table. Was he so sleep deprived that he was hallucinating now?

He picked up his phone and found Morgan's number in his contacts. His thumb hovered over the 'call' button for a second. Then he hit 'cancel' and set it back down. He reached for the bottle and poured himself another glass.

It was going to be a long night.

***Oh lord prepare for a MASSIVE authors note.***

**Hello :) me again. I'm sorry that I've been sort of sneaking my dubious musical taste into my writing. ^^ I know Morgan probably mainly listens to rap, but my knowledge of this is extremely limited. And I know the song Fix You is totally overused and clich_é_d BUT I DON'T CARE. It sums up how Morgan feels about Reid so perfectly, like how he wants to fix Reid so badly but he doesn't know how. *weeps* also I just liked the thought of them in the car at night listening to that song and OH MY, THE EMOTIONS. **

**I had this thought, like maybe I could tell you the song/songs I listened to while writing each chapter? I've seen authors do that before, and I like it cos it helps me get the mood they're trying to create, and sometimes I find a new band I like. So I may do that. This chapter was Fix You, obviously.**

**Also, I'm so glad there was such a positive response to Dr Young! I was a bit nervous putting another OC in since sometimes people get grumpy about that. But yeah. I have no idea where the hell he sprang from anyway. I literally didn't find out what the counsellor character was going to be like until Morgan and I got through the doors of the BAU and there was just this strange man there eating Rossi's bagel all nonchalantly and I was like...okay then. Welcome aboard sir. **

**...**

**A few replies to commenters:**

**marcallie ~ I know I've already said this but I love your comments so much xDD I am honoured beyond words that somebody wants to date a figment of my imagination. And a little bit jealous. How come he can get a date and I can't? I mean aside from the fact that you live on the other side of the world and are possibly quite a lot older than me. But at least I actually exist. That's automatically got to make me the better candidate. I MADE YOU DAMMIT YOUNG. I CAN DESTROY YOU JUST AS EASILY. *cries***

**...I think possibly I need to book myself an appointment with my own fictional therapist.**

**...**

**The anonymous person who went by the name of 'you sick fuck' ~ I doubt you'll read this since you left your comment on chapter 1 and gave the impression you didn't intend to read on, but all the same, you were my first ever hate comment, and I would like to commemorate the occasion. I was worried I would be upset by getting negative reviews on my stories, but you vanquished my fears by communicating your disapproval of my story in the most delightfully concise and hilarious way: 'you sick fuck, i hope you get cancer.' ****Thank you xD I wish all haters were like you.**

**...**

**Medeia456 ~ oh dear, I hope you didn't get fired! I did the exact same thing on the morning of my maths GCSE xD and yes, you have my solemn word that the story will not end until Morgan and Reid are happy. **

**...**

**To everyone else, thank you. I don't have time to thank you individually but know that I appreciate you all a great deal. kisses xxxxxxxx**


	12. Chapter 12

**Suggested theme music for first section: Dance With The Devil ~ Breaking Benjamin**

The hands of the grandfather clock in the empty, decaying ballroom were approaching midnight. In the middle of the room there was a woman, pale and slim with silky brunette curls piled up on her head, revealing her slender neck which twisted almost painfully to one side, looking away from the stranger who held her waist so tenderly as they danced the waltz, graceful as two circling swans. She wore an off-shoulder ball gown of sensual red satin which enticed the eye to the violin shaped sway of full, womanly hips. The orchestra soared and fell like the pleasurable kiss of a summer breeze on the cheek, and drowned out the woman's hopeless tearful sobs, and the muffled shouts of her husband as he lay ten feet away on the old wooden floor in his tuxedo, bound by rope and gagged with duct tape. The stranger smiled and closed his eyes in almost erotic appreciation as the music blaring from a stereo approached its climax. She gave in to curiosity despite her fear and turned her head to look at him with dark frightened eyes. Without a warning his eyes snapped open.

"I told you not to look at me, _bitch!_" he shrieked, breaking their rigidly flawless posture. He stunned her out of her babbled apologies with a slap round the face, then grabbed and twisted her body into his so her back was pressed against his chest. He breathed heavily for a moment, trying to regain self-control. Then he plucked a loaded syringe from his trouser pocket, stabbed it into the side of her thigh and pressed the plunger down. Within seconds the fight drained out of her, and he let go of her to crumple onto the floor like a dropped towel.

Her husband's angry mumbles became an angry roaring of indecipherable threats until the stranger stepped over the woman's weakened body, pausing briefly to gently turn her head so she was looking at her husband, and retrieved a switchblade from his jacket pocket. His male captive fell silent when he saw it. The stranger played with it in front of the man's eyes, tossing it up in the air and catching it a few times, stroking the folded down blade with his finger tip before he pulled it erect, like some perverse mockery of foreplay between the loving husband and wife.

Tears leaked from his captives eyes and he shook his head vigorously as if trying to rouse himself from a nightmare, as the stranger knelt in front of him and started to unbutton his shirt.

"Are you watching my love?" he asked her, smiling with tender insanity. "The man of your dreams is about to give you his heart, so your two souls can be united as one for eternity. Are you excited?"

The wife's paralysed eyes watched impassively as he plunged the blade into her husband's chest and tore the gag away just in time to let his screams echo off the walls of the ballroom. As the life drained out of him, the devil dressed as a man reached for the hacksaw he'd brought, setting it on the man's exposed ribcage. The wife's eyes woke up just enough for her to blink out a tear, which slid down her rouged cheek and fell onto the dusty wooden floor.

Finally, mercifully, the drug enveloped her in darkness.

**[end theme music]**

...

The team was sitting in the briefing room drinking coffee round the table and listening to JJ briefing them on a new case. Well, most of them were. Morgan was watching the clock, wondering why Reid was more than twenty minutes late for work.

It had been a week since he'd spoken to Reid in his car, and if he'd hoped things would improve with Reid after their talk, he had been severely mistaken. Reid's condition had gone downhill rapidly. To say that he'd been unfocused lately was putting it mildly. He'd been irritable with everybody, his appearance grew more and more dishevelled and his clothes even more uncoordinated than usual. His attention span had decreased so dramatically that sometimes even half way through a sentence he would stop and stare around him blankly as if someone had just wiped his mind.

He drank cup after cup of sugar coffee, sat with his back to the window wherever he could, and wore his headache sunglasses whenever he went outside, even though it was nearly winter. He massaged his temples a lot while he was working, digging his fingers in with so much pressure it seemed like he was trying to drill holes in his skull to reach the pain. His nervous habits like brushing his hair back behind his ear and tapping on the desk increased too, especially when anyone tried to start a conversation with him. He had immense difficulty with eye contact suddenly.

Finally he showed up. His hair was wet at the tips and his heavy black coat was flecked with snow. The team exchanged worried glances at his mumbled apology. They all remembered what it had meant the last time Reid had shown up late.

"Why are you so late?" Prentiss asked.

"Overslept. Sorry." Reid said vacantly. "Won't happen again."

His eyes had dark circles so pronounced he could have passed for a member of the undead. It looked like he hadn't had any luck with the sleeping yet.

He tried to rip his dark red scarf off quickly but somehow managed to get himself tangled up in it, and he got so flustered by being the centre of everyone's attention that his arms flailed for a second like he was battling a python.

That kind of thing would have made Morgan's day once, it was so adorable when he messed up simple tasks like taking off a scarf, all the more so because of his immense intellect. But Morgan was too worried about him to enjoy himself now.

Well okay, maybe a little.

"Jeez, it's snowing already?" Rossi broke the awkward silence. "I'm meant to be driving up to Vermont this weekend."

"Oh? How come?" asked Hotch quickly, and the topic moved away from Reid, who sat down, grateful to have the limelight moved away from him. He stared at the file in front of him like it was written in the language of aliens.

Morgan tried not to stare at him. Luckily he'd had years to practise not staring at Reid, and managed to swing his focus back onto what JJ was telling them.

"There's a suspected serial at the White Star Ski Resort in Deep Creek Lake, Maryland. Three couples simply disappeared the night before checkout, and their luggage was taken so at first the hotel assumed they were simply skipping out on the bill, until they reported to the police for the third time, and they realised three couples in nine days can't be a coincidence. The trouble is, no bodies have been found yet so they're finding it difficult to build a case. The resort are refusing to refund guests and shut down while the investigation takes place, so the matter needs to be sorted urgently."

"No bodies? That's going to be difficult. They can't even prove these couples are dead." Prentiss said.

"They'll be found soon enough." Hotch said grimly.

"How can you be so sure?" Prentiss asked, doubtfully.

"Well, where would _you_ dump a body in Deep Creek Lake?" Morgan chuckled.

"You think he's dumping them in the lake?"

"Well if he is then they'll be discovered any day now. How many places are there which rent out boats in that place? One unlucky tourist is about to get a nasty surprise on the end of his fishing line." Rossi remarked.

"Unless he's cut the bodies up and weighed them down." Reid mumbled, tapping on the table with his fingernails and staring bleakly at his reflection in the dark polished wood. "If that's the case they'll probably never be found. That lake covers approximately 3,900 acres and has 69 miles of shoreline."

JJ's PDA suddenly bleeped. She picked it up off the table and read the message. She grimaced.

"He didn't weigh them down. The corpses of Sam and Josephine Keller were just found by two teenage boys and a _ten_ _year-old_ on a fishing trip with their grandfather." She shook her head in disgust.

"Could be what gets him off, spoiling people's holidays, their time with their loved ones." Morgan commented.

"Guys you need to see this." JJ said. "Open your emails."

They all tapped at the screens of their handheld computers and looked at the photos they had been sent. There was a stunned silence. Morgan was used to some disturbing things but this was a whole new level of creepy, not even in a violent way, just in a way that sent a shudder through him.

"Interesting." Rossi said weakly.

"He did weigh them down after all." Prentiss remarked, finally.

"But not to hide them." Hotch said.

The photo had been taken underwater. The bodies of the husband and wife had been tied together at the wrists so they were staring straight into each other's pale, dead eyes. The wife's long dark hair floated in a halo around her face. She was wearing a red satin evening dress, he was in black tie.

Their feet had been attached by a long rope to a concrete block at the bottom of the lake, so they floated, suspended just below the surface as if they'd just jumped in for a quick swim.

"He's displaying them." Reid said.

"In a twisted kind of way it's like he's trying to be…romantic, the way they're all dressed up, holding hands, looking into each other's eyes...like soul mates. Together for eternity." Rossi remarked.

"Did they drown?" Hotch asked.

"They haven't established that yet, but the husband has a pretty severe crack to the back of the head." JJ replied.

"Hm. Blitz attack. That's odd for a killer with such a detailed fantasy." Morgan frowned.

"It could be that he's in a psychotic break and drifts in and out of lucidity. Or it could be that he just doesn't care about the death itself so much as what he does to the bodies afterwards." Hotch said.

"It sounds like you're thinking he could be some kind of necrophile?" Morgan asked.

"Possibly. It's too early to tell yet."

"Well one thing's for sure. We need to get there as soon as possible, or another couple is going to wind up like them." Rossi said.

"This was not how I wanted my first trip to a ski resort to go." JJ sighed, turning off the projector.

"We can head down there today before the snow gets too heavy. But I need to call Strauss first. She wanted me to do a consultation for the forensics department, but I'll tell her we have a case now." Hotch told them, barely able to hide his delight at having a legitimate reason to cause inconvenience to Strauss.

They all studied the case file in silence while he was gone.

Suddenly JJ leaned over and whispered to Morgan;

"What's been up with Reid lately?" The evident worry in her voice mirrored the anxiety he felt.

Reid's head snapped up as he sensed them talking, and he narrowed his eyes.

"He hasn't been sleeping well, that's all. He's in Dilaudid withdrawal remember? That is some mean shit man." Morgan muttered.

"Are you sure he isn't using again?" she asked, glancing at Reid and biting her lip.

"No! I mean yeah I'm sure. It's nothing like that."

"Okay. Thanks." She said.

Reid stood up. He looked like he wanted to say something, but simply pushed his chair back and slunk over the coffee machine to get his first coffee of the day. Something about his posture caught Morgan's eye as he poured himself a mug. He had his fists clenched by his sides, his back was rigid and his shoulders were tensed. His breathing was ragged and he kept giving quiet groans and bringing his hands up to cover his ears.

"Reid? You okay?" Morgan asked.

"WILL YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP? I'M RIGHT HERE!" Reid turned around and yelled at his startled colleagues.

JJ and Morgan exchanged glances.

"Um…none of us were talking, Reid..." JJ said, confused.

"Yes you were!" Reid said furiously. "I heard you talking about me! You have no right to speculate on my private life behind my back! Especially when I'm standing right here!"

"Please, Reid I asked Morgan if you were okay because you don't tell me anything, but that was it, I swear! No one was saying _anything _while you were getting your coffee!"

"She's right kid." Morgan said.

Reid looked lost for words.

"Oh." He said, in a small voice. He rubbed his forehead with the side of his hand. He sat down, forgetting about the coffee altogether.

When Hotch returned, Morgan stood up before he'd even got through the door and asked him in a low voice if he had a minute to talk outside. Hotch nodded.

"What is it?" he asked when they were outside the room.

"I am seriously worried about Reid, Hotch. I don't think he's up to going on this trip." Morgan said.

Hotch looked up over his shoulder. Morgan turned round and saw that Reid had followed them.

"Hey, look, Reid…"

"I _knew_ it! I knew you were talking about me before!" he snapped. "Please, Hotch believe me, I'm _fine_. I can do my job."

"Maybe he's right Reid. You do look like you could use a break."

"A break is exactly the opposite of what I need!" he turned to Morgan. "How _dare_ you try and convince him that I'm not up to the job!? Are you trying to get me thrown off the team, is that it?"

"No way! I was just looking out for you man! Why the hell would I want you to get fired?" Morgan protested, feeling hurt.

"Gentleman, may I remind you that we're in a public place." Hotch said calmly, glancing down into the bullpen, where several of the other workers had stopped what they were doing to watch the altercation curiously.

Morgan realised they'd both been talking in quite loud voices.

Hotch seemed to come to a decision.

"Reid, if you're sure you're up to it, I won't make you stay behind."

"Thank you sir." Reid glared at Morgan.

"But I will insist that we bring Dr Young with us, so that you don't miss your appointments with him."

Reid's mouth fell open in shock.

"You can't do that! We're going there on federal business! We can't just bring a random civilian along to a crime scene!"

"Which is why I just phoned to tell him I'm hiring him temporarily as a consultant on the case." Hotch said authoritatively. He rarely used such a commanding tone of voice with his employees, as he respected their opinions, but clearly this was one of those occasions where he was pulling rank.

"I'm sorry, this is non-negotiable. Those are the terms, take it or go home."

Reid forced his face into indifference and nodded, and when he glanced at Morgan as he turned to leave he looked so defeated and betrayed that Morgan lost his grip on the anger he felt at being accused of something he would never do and just wanted to get Reid alone and kiss the hurt feelings out of him.

But then he always wanted to kiss Reid, whatever emotion he displayed. His thinking face, his surprised face, his happy smiling face, his 'I will master these chopsticks if it kills me' face, his 'Imma tell this nice person lots of interesting and obscure facts so that they will want to be my friend' face, and his inevitable disappointed face when said person stopped him from telling them the facts. His face when he was trying not to be scared of the dark, his evil mastermind face when he was flamboyantly preparing some kind of science demonstration/magic trick/Halloween prank to scare the shit out of Morgan, his asleep face, his face when he was talking to Lucy Davies in the hospital, in all its kindness and sympathy and pain, his face when he was looking up at the stars.

It was exhausting, being so in love with someone.

Reid went back into the briefing room.

"What made you so concerned that he wasn't up to this trip?" Hotch asked, quietly.

"He's showing signs of paranoid delusions Hotch. You heard what he said about me trying to get him fired." Morgan said frustratedly. "As if I would ever want him off the team!"

"I know that, and you know that, but Reid doesn't know how strongly you feel about him. If you think about it from his point of view, is it really so irrational of him to believe everyone's conspiring against him when you and I have been watching him like a hawk?" Hotch pointed out reasonably.

"I guess so." Morgan admitted. He hadn't thought about it like that.

"You have to stop waiting for him to show symptoms. If we didn't know his genetic history we wouldn't think anything of his behaviour other than that he's under a huge amount of stress and is dealing with it as best he can."

Morgan felt like an idiot.

"Man, I screwed up didn't I?"

"You're under a huge amount of stress too." said Hotch, as he headed back towards the briefing room. "And you're only increasing it by carrying around all this guilt."

JJ stuck her head round the door.

"Plane's ready guys." She told them.

"Okay, everyone get your go-bags and we'll meet at the car." Hotch said.

Everyone round the table nodded and stood up.

Morgan tried to catch Reid's eye before they left, to apologise, but the young genius looked straight through him.

...

**Reviews:**

**Darcy Nicole - Aww I'm so sorry! I know a lot of you are suffering from the fact that Reid is so unhappy and angry and keeps shutting Morgan out, believe me it's taking all my willpower to maintain it! And actually yes I am toying with the idea of doing an epilogue/sequel of them one day having beautiful chocolate genius babies, even though it's a bit cheesy xD I think I need some cheesy romance to balance out the unbelievable amount of angst in this story. **

**NazzyWazzy - Oh my, yes, your nice comment totally made me feel better :) and thank you for taking the time to write such a long review! You have no idea how exciting it was to me when it showed up in my inbox, I love proper long comments like that, where I get to hear which parts you enjoyed the most. And I'm really glad you persevered with the story and found you liked it.**

**reelingthoughts - Welcome! Thank you so much for the compliments. :) I often feel I've bitten off a bit more than I can chew with this story as my first fan fiction, it's been quite a stretch for my imagination and my sense of empathy to imagine what it must feel like for them, so it's nice to hear I'm doing a good job! **

**Evie Antorcha - Thank you very much (: I can't wait either, but I hope you will enjoy the journey as much as I am.**

**Criminds - I'm glad I made you laugh with that, lol xD I love you Americans.**

**also many thanks to LaRieNGuBleR, Tessalationx13, Medeia456, jenny crum and Lizzybeth74 :)**


	13. Chapter 13

They were on the way to the airport half an hour later. Morgan was driving the car, Hotch was next to him. Reid was sitting in the back glowering out the window and gnawing at an invisible hangnail on his middle finger. Rossi, Prentiss and JJ were travelling in the other car.

Morgan was at a loss for what to say to him. Reid was such a laid back person usually that he couldn't recall ever having argued with him before. The thought that Reid genuinely thought he might want him fired from the BAU was incredibly hurtful and bewildering to say the least.

They stopped at Young's house. He'd obviously been watching for them since Morgan hadn't even parked the car yet and he was already hurrying out the door, suitcase in hand. He practically skipped to the side of the car and knocked on Hotch's window. He wound it down.

Young saluted him cheerfully. "Reporting for duty Agent Hotchner!"

"Glad you could make it at such short notice." Hotch said solemnly.

"Are you kidding?" he slapped his hands onto the car window frame and leaned inside, oblivious to Hotch's obvious discomfort. "This is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me! A free skiing holiday _and_ I get to help you guys catch a serial killer! And this resort sounds awesome! I looked it up and it has hot tubs and a pool and a freaking _golf course_! I don't even like golf but OH MY GOD."

"If you don't mind Dr Young, we need to get going before the weather really hits."

"Oh right! Sorry." He put his suitcase in the trunk, opened the door and climbed into the back seat. "Oh…heey." he said, wincing. "Didn't see you there Twenty-eight."

Reid pretended not to hear him. He rested his forehead against the window and closed his eyes, looking like he wished he could make himself disappear, like the ghost of his breath on the cold window melted away between his exhalations.

Morgan switched on the windscreen wipers and started driving. The sooner this painfully awkward drive was over the better.

...

They met up with the others on the plane twenty minutes later.

"Uh, Hotch, who's this?" asked JJ.

Prentiss glanced up from her file and looked amusingly horrified as she recognised the man who had splashed coffee at her favourite sweater, then tried to hit on her all within a minute of meeting her.

"Why the hell is _he_ here?" she complained. Young blew her a kiss and waved mock-flirtatiously.

"This is Dr Young. He's here as a consultant."

"A consultant on what?" JJ asked.

"Being an ass?" Prentiss suggested under her breath.

"Everything." Hotch said ambiguously, and sat down with a book.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Prentiss asked, sceptically. "Like he's some kind of guru?"

"It means he's here because I say so, and you'd do well not to question my judgement." Hotch said, giving her one of his most intimidating death stares.

Prentiss just said "Ugh," and went back to reading.

Young went and sat down, a healthy distance away from her. Reid went and sat at the back corner, making it clear that he wanted to be left alone. Morgan wanted to talk to him, but he knew Reid was struggling with something he didn't fully understand, and decided maybe it was best just to leave him to work through it on his own.

"What's the matter? You just gonna give up? What kind of a man are you?" Morgan teased, sitting down next to Young.

"A man who has learnt the valuable lesson in his lifetime, not to antagonise women who carry guns." Young pointed out.

"I can testify to that, my man." Came Rossi's voice from somewhere behind them.

"See?" Young said.

"Alright fair enough." Morgan laughed.

Young dug his ball out of his jacket pocket and started bouncing it off the partition wall.

"You seriously take that thing everywhere?" Morgan asked.

"Yup. It helps me think. I tried carrying a chinchilla around with me but they don't bounce so well." He grinned. "It's a shame though. They're a lot cuter."

"Are you serious?" Morgan laughed.

"Yup. Well. Kind of. I did have a chinchilla called Charlie when I was a kid, but I didn't try to bounce him. He died of natural causes when I was eleven. If natural causes can include an unfortunate incident with a lawnmower."

Morgan's mouth fell open.

"Oh my God! That's awf…oh you're shitting me again aren't you?"

"Yep." Young gave a shameless grin. "Oh wait…I'm meant to be building up a relationship of trust with you aren't I? Oops."

Morgan laughed.

"So what about you?" Young nudged him. "What did you do to get in the doghouse with young Dr Reid?"

"Wish I knew." Morgan said tiredly, leaning his head back into the seat. "This week has just been…ugh. I just want him to get better."

Young caught the ball and looked at him sort of funny.

"What?" Morgan asked.

"Nothing." He threw the ball again.

"No come on, what? You gonna psychoanalyse me for this entire trip?"

"Of course not. But I see things, and as a result I think things, you know? I can't really avoid it."

"So what are you thinking?"

"My thoughts are private until I choose to share them, just as yours are."

"Okay then." Morgan said, trying not to feel irritated. "So, anyway, I hear your appointment with him wasn't such a success?"

"I can't discuss that with you, you know that."

"I forgot. Sorry." Morgan said, annoyed with himself. Even when he decided to leave Reid alone he still couldn't stop interfering.

"That's okay."

"Hey guys," Rossi said, leaning over the back of their seats. "Front of the plane in five minutes. We have some new info Hotch wants to share with us."

...

They got to the meeting last, Morgan and Young. They were laughing about something. There was a surprisingly painful pang of some kind in Reid's chest at the sight of Morgan so happily talking to someone else, which puzzled and distressed him. He couldn't find any explanation for it. He guessed the sleepless nights were messing with his ability to organise his thoughts.

JJ, Rossi, Prentiss and Hotch sat around the window table. Reid sat across from them on the seat opposite the table, staring at his brown Converses. Morgan and Young stood behind JJ and Rossi's seats.

"The Maryland police force sent us some new information we need to discuss." Hotch began.

"The coroner just established that there was water in Josephine's lungs, but not her husband's. He was already dead when he hit the water." JJ said, despondently.

"You mean she drowned face to face with her husband's corpse?" Prentiss said. "That kind of twisted has to put him squarely in the sadist category, surely?"

"It's all about the women's fear. The men are nothing to him, disposable." Morgan said.

"There's more." Hotch said grimly.

"The coroner did a preliminary autopsy, and…there's no nice way to put this, but in the contents of the female victim's stomach he found…human cardiac muscle."

There was a stunned silence.

Morgan closed his eyes wearily. "Please tell me it wasn't…"

"…her husband's cardiac muscle." JJ said, looking nauseous.

"Somebody made this woman _eat_ her husband's _heart_?" Young said, appalled.

"Either that or she got an unprecedentedly severe attack of the munchies while they were on their hiking excursion." Reid said sarcastically.

Young raised his eyebrows a little at the young man's open hostility.

"So what does this tell us about our unsub?" Hotch asked the group.

This time Young answered.

"He's jealous." He said with a smirk, glancing at Reid. Reid fidgeted in his seat and looked uncomfortable.

_Hit the nail on the head there then. _Young thought. _Looks like these agents haven't quite been honest with me about their feelings for one another._

"I'm sorry?" Hotch asked, not following his train of thought.

"I'd say the message was pretty clear." Young looked away from Reid. "The woman you love eating your heart. Maybe that's what he feels happened to him in the past, and he's just getting his revenge. Or trying to warn others." Young's hand got restless so he started bouncing his ball on the floor again.

Hotch nodded in approval of his theory.

_Now he's trying to replace me in my own team. _Reid thought, despairingly. What had he done to suddenly make everyone dislike him so much? Or had they just put up with him out of pity for years and now they were sick of it? All those moments of comradeship, family, feeling part of something for once…were they all just in his head?

Young smiled at his victory and bounced his ball especially hard. Unfortunately and not at all on purpose it ricoched off the air-con vent in the ceiling and headed once again for poor Prentiss, landing in her cleavage and making her drop the contents of her file onto the floor.

"Oh! Are you kidding me? Will someone please tell him to stop bouncing that stupid ball around in a confined space?" she snapped tossing it away down the plane.

"Oh my God sorry!" he babbled, genuinely terrified for his life, while everyone else tried their best not to laugh. He practically dived onto the floor to help her pick up the sheets of paper.

"You've gotta admit Prentiss, it's kind of funny how you're always the one to get hit by airborne missiles." Morgan chuckled. "Seriously, it's like you have some sort of magnetic field which makes them hone in on you."

"Well that wouldn't keep happening if people would quit _throwing stuff_ in my vicinity! Come on, we're all supposed to be professional adults here."

"Hey, there was nothing about having to be a professional adult in my contract!" Young said in mock-outrage.

"That is because you didn't have a contract." Hotch pointed out. "You merely accepted a free holiday."

"Oh right. So basically I'm your bitch until we catch this guy?"

"I'm afraid so." Hotch nodded.

"Hmph." Young pretended to sulk, and muttered, "At least I'm a bitch with a hot tub."

"I'm going to go get a coffee." Prentiss said, rolling her eyes at their immaturity. "I assume you all want one too."

Everyone nodded and said thanks.

"I'll help you carry them!" Young perked up.

"No…no you're alright. Morgan, with me please." Prentiss said quickly, looking alarmed.

Morgan winked at Young. "The lady knows what she wants." He clapped the disheartened counsellor on the back as he walked past.

"Hey." He said to Prentiss in the refreshments section of the plane as she put water into the machine. "You know he's sweet on you right? Like, sweeter than Reid's coffee."

"I'm not talking about this with you Morgan." She said, trying not to smile.

"Ohh so that means you got a little sugar goin' on for him too huh?" he grinned.

"No!" she protested. "No way. I've met guys like him before, who think girls find it cute if they go round pulling their pigtails like they're in second grade. They never grow up."

"He's not always like that. I think you make him nervous. Which is understandable since you've yelled at him every time you've seen him. I think you should go easy on him."

"You really think I should try dating him?" she laughed in disbelief.

"That's not for me to say" Morgan smiled. "But I think he's a good guy, I think he'll make you smile and I think you need to smile more."

She poured coffee into seven mugs and Morgan put milk and sugar into those who liked milk and sugar's mugs.

"He does have nice hair." She conceded, taking a sip of her drink.

They took the drinks through to the others on trays. Morgan handed Reid his coffee, as a peace offering. Reid did that thing where his mouth tried to smile a little but his eyes looked miserable, and took the drink from him. Morgan sat down next to him.

"Are we okay pretty boy?" he asked softly.

Reid looked relieved.

"Yeah." He said, and gave a stronger smile this time. Morgan returned it, though he was now even more at a loss for what the hell was going on inside the young genius's head.

"Hey, Hotch?" Young said. "I have an idea. If it's okay for me to say so, I think I know how we catch this guy."

"Sure, go ahead." Hotch nodded.

"Well he targets couples right? So why don't we provide our own?"

"You mean two of us go undercover?" Morgan said.

"Yeah. I mean you see it in movies all the time." Young shrugged.

"It's something we could certainly consider, but it's too risky until we know exactly how he targets the couples, otherwise we have no guarantee he'll choose our couple over another."

"Garcia may be able to help us there. If we find out more about the three couples he's already taken, that will tell us how to adapt our couple to suit his fantasy better than the other guests." Morgan said.

"Okay, it's worth a try." Hotch agreed.

Morgan called Garcia and put her on speakerphone.

"This is the queen of the digital realm speaking, and might I add she's not at all pleased that her Cocoa Muffin didn't stop to say goodbye to her before he left." She said grumpily.

"Cocoa Muffin?" Young raised an eyebrow.

"I'm eternally sorry my hot delicious cupcake," Morgan glared at him. "But we've got a real freaky one for you this time babygirl."

"Oh I know. JJ sent me the photos, and let's just say I will be having some very vivid nightmares tonight. Whose voice is that Honeysuckle?"

"Honeysuckle!?" Young burst out laughing. "I love this woman! Remind me why she's not coming with us again?"

"Garcia meet Dr Adam Young. He's consulting just for this case."

"Oh. Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine cupcake."

"When you two have finished flirting," Hotch cut in, taking the phone away from Morgan. "Garcia could you draw up a list of the guests currently staying at the hotel, eliminating children, groups and singles? We're looking for couples, romantically involved couples, especially those nearing the last night of their stay."

"Too easy my liege, give me something to get my heart pounding."

"You mean put Morgan back on the phone?" Hotch smirked.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

"Oh…_my god_." Said Morgan.

"Did he just make a joke? Did that actually happen?" Prentiss asked. "I wasn't sure whether I had some kind of complex partial seizure."

"What? It does happen sometimes." Hotch huffed. "Anyway, Garcia could you also run background checks on the victims?"

"Already did that earlier sir, sending them to your PDAs now."

"Thanks. This place is pretty isolated, especially in winter so chances are we're looking for somebody who works in or nearby the resort. Check skiing instructors, cleaners, concierges and security guards and see if any of them have a criminal record, and crosscheck with those who have suffered a break up recently. That's it for now."

"Okay sir I'll keep you posted. Over and out."

"Okay so the other two couples were Max and Judy Brook, and Sarah and Greg Foster. Both couples were married and in their mid-twenties." JJ said.

"All the women are long haired brunettes." Rossi pointed out. They all looked at Prentiss.

"I guess I'm it then." She said, smiling bravely. "The men are also dark haired and white. I guess that means you'll be joining me Hotch."

There was an awkward silence.

"Um, the males are in their twenties Prentiss." Hotch said carefully. "I'm flattered you think I could pass for that, but…I'm too old."

"Then who…?" She looked around the group. Young waved awkwardly.

"No. No! No way. No." she shook her head and looked horrified. "I am not sharing a room with this idiot! He'll have accidentally bludgeoned me to death with some flying object before the unsub gets near us."

"Hey!"

"No offence."

Hotch looked apologetic. "I'm sorry Prentiss. If we're going to take a proper shot at this you're going to have to try to at least appear to get along with him."

"And be madly in love with him." Morgan grinned, overjoyed at how the situation had played out.

She glared at him.

"This unsub is going to regret the day he was born when I get my hands on him." She swore.

"First things first, there were some more important connections between the victims." JJ said. "The couples were all on their honeymoon. The women all wore something red on the night they disappeared, the couples were all very wealthy with the women generally as the chief earners. The women were described by hotel staff as 'outgoing and flirtatious' while the men were quieter and more submissive."

"Perhaps that's his problem with them. Dominant women make him angry because he couldn't control the woman he wanted to keep." Rossi suggested.

"He sounds like a classic Anger Retaliation rapist type. But he'll almost definitely have been reported for domestic abuse." Prentiss said.

"The final connection is that they were all staying in the luxury oak cabins around the property, not the main hotel." JJ said.

"That's good." Hotch said. "That narrows his victim pool considerably."

"I think we have enough to go on to give it a try." Rossi said. Hotch nodded.

"Kill me now." Prentiss groaned melodramatically.

...

**Hello :) no song for this chapter really. Umm...hope you're all enjoying. Sorry about the Prentiss/Young if anyone reading is one of those slash puritans who are like BLAH HETEROSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS. xD I actually did not anticipate that pairing at all. Damn you Young and your unpredictable plot-stealing ways. You ever get that happening in your stories? Where a minor character is just like GIVE ME ATTENTION PLEASE AUTHOR. And while we're at it who the hell decided we were going skiing? WHAT IS HAPPENING TO MY STORY? xD **

**Ah well. It'll resolve itself somehow. **


	14. Chapter 14

The resort was incredible. It was snowing lightly when they got off the plane, and everywhere you looked, buildings, trees, cars were all iced in a thick layer of snow, giving the town a fairy tale quality.

It was a two hour drive from the tiny landing strip to the resort. The main hotel was a large, square, modern looking building with 9 floors of guest apartments. Its metal support frame and big glass windows glinted blindingly, reflecting rows and rows of winter suns, and it had a decorated wooden arch over the front entrance with the word 'Welcome' carved into it.

Framed behind it were some snowy mountains where the skiing took place, and a ski lift to take guests up to them. Spread out around the grounds of the resort were the oak cabins, which looked like little fairy tale cottages. The cabins they drove past were built on a slope. Thick wooden stilts supported a balcony on the second floor with a view of the forest and mountains, overhung by the eaves of the sloping tiled roof, which had decorative carved wooden edging around the gables. They had large latticed windows designed to look quaint and old fashioned, complete with fake shutters.

Two police detectives and the hotel manager came out to meet them. Young and Prentiss stayed in the car in case the unsub saw them with the FBI and realised he was being tricked.

"Welcome to my resort!" The manager, a tubby, balding man in his fifties, said after introductions and handshakes had been exchanged (His name was Daniel Orwell while the two detectives were Officer Dane and Officer Jarvis.) "Thank you so much for coming so quickly. I hope the weather wasn't too much hassle?"

"We managed." Hotch said impatiently. "Have you announced the findings of the investigation so far to the guests?"

Orwell seemed to shrink to half the size. "Yes. Once those kids found the bodies in the lake I could hardly keep it a secret."

"And how many of them subsequently left?"

"Only a few." said Officer Dane, "By the time they heard about it the weather had got so bad that most of them had no way of getting home. None of the public airports are letting any planes fly in the snow storm. And the nearest hotel which isn't fully booked is a two hour drive away. Besides, it's actually _on_ the lakeside, and folks aren't so keen to be near the water anymore."

"Right. Is there somewhere we can talk inside? We need to discuss how to protect the guests."

"Of course. I'll take you there now. Why don't the rest of you get settled in your cabins? I've got your welcome packs here. It has a map with the location of your cabins marked on it, your keys and the codes for the alarm. Get unpacked, freshen up, dinner is served up at the main hotel from six until eleven, or your cabin will have a fully stocked kitchen and larder if you'd prefer to do it yourselves." He said enthusiastically and handed them the packs.

Morgan got the impression the man didn't quite grasp the fact that the point of their visit was to catch a killer, not to enjoy themselves. However, it had been a long journey up here and he was pretty eager to get warm and fed, so he and Reid got back in the car and Morgan drove to where their cabins were, while Hotch, Rossi and JJ sorted everything out.

The arrangements were that Prentiss and Young were officially Mr and Mrs Prentiss, and they were booked into a honeymoon cabin for the weekend, Friday evening until Monday morning, so the unsub would come on Sunday evening if he stuck to his pattern. Hotch had asked the manager to enter their fake details into the hotel's system, so if the unsub was hacking into the computer system to choose and locate his victims, he would find all their details in order.

Their cabin was in the forest quite close to the hotel and right next to the road which connected all the cabins. Within sight of Young and Prentiss's cabin window was a family cabin, where the rest of the team would stay, ready to intervene in case anything went wrong. The police had already set up CCTV cameras monitoring every side of the house, which would be watched in shifts by the team when Young and Prentiss were inside, and by the police when they were all out, to make sure he couldn't sneak in and wait for them.

Morgan and Reid helped them carry their bags inside and Morgan gave Prentiss a goodbye hug.

"Don't worry, we'll catch the son-of-a-bitch before you know it." He reassured her with a grin. She didn't look convinced. Reid hung back uncertainly before deciding on a very speedy hug. She was pleased anyway. He'd been in such a foul mood lately she didn't expect any affectionate gesture from him at all.

Then Morgan and Reid got back in the car and Morgan drove round to their cabin. They dumped everybody's bags inside the door and Reid sat down at the kitchen table, while Morgan made coffee. The cabin was warm and cosy, but the atmosphere was awkward and tense.

"Hey kid, I'm really sorry about earlier." Morgan said.

"It's okay." Reid replied, picking at a splinter of wood sticking up on the pine table.

"No it's not. I shouldn't have talked to Hotch without asking you first. It was out of line."

"Really, I don't blame you. I know you were just trying to look out for the team." Reid replied.

_I wasn't looking out for the team. I was looking out for you, you idiot._

"Besides, at some point you may have to." Reid continued.

"Have to what? What do you mean?"

"Tell Hotch without my permission." Reid replied looking up at him grimly. "I've been thinking about this for a while now, that if I have a schizophrenic break, you won't be able to reason with me. I know how hard it is to convince a schizophrenic that they need help. I felt so guilty for sanctioning my mom, and…I don't want anyone to feel like that about me." He leaned forward slightly. "So I'm giving you my permission now. I want you promise me, if I ever become a burden to the team, you'll do whatever you have to do. Promise me."

_How the hell can I promise to get you thrown off the team?_

"Morgan?"

"Okay kid. I promise. But it won't come to that. Anyone would be stressed out having been through what you have. You have nothing to worry about."

Reid bit his lip and nodded, not meeting his eyes and doing a terrible job of trying to look reassured.

"It is just that isn't it?" he asked softly, sitting down on a chair next to him. "Or is there something you're not telling me?"

Reid shook his head and picked at the table again. Morgan leaned forward slightly, folding his arms and resting his elbows on the table.

"You can tell me, I won't tell Hotch or anyone. I swear I only want to help you Reid."

There was a long pause where he seemed to be working up the courage to say something.

"It's just that…recently I've been having these weird…feelings. Well I guess…sensations would be more accurate." Reid gritted his teeth, struggling to get through the sentence.

Morgan waited for him to elaborate.

"It's like I can feel…fingers on my body. Touching me. And it's…Tom's fingers, I think." He grimaced and scratched the back of his neck, still not meeting Morgan's eyes.

"What makes you think that it's Tom?" Morgan asked, confused.

"Cause…well…when we were with them…he…came into the basement. When I was alone. And he…well..." Reid balled his fists and held them against his forehead. "You can infer what he did to me from the fact that I'm feeling his fingersall over me now."

Morgan's mouth fell open. Fresh, possessive fury welled up inside him all over again at the thought of that repulsive, slimy psychopath touching Reid.

"Oh God. I didn't know..."

"I didn't want you to know." Reid said quietly.

"Did he…did he actually…God, I don't know how to ask this…" Morgan stuttered.

"I don't think I can talk about it right now." Reid said numbly, wrapping his arms around himself and leaning forward against the table.

"Of course…it's okay, you don't have to talk about it." Morgan tried to pull himself together. "How often does this happen?"

"Between five and ten times a day. Especially when I'm in bed."

"Has there been anything else that's been worrying you?"

"There's been a few times where I've…heard things, which weren't there. Or maybe they were, I don't know anymore. I'm just so tired I forget what it feels like _not_ to be tired, you know? And whenever I do fall asleep they're both there. Waiting for me." He mumbled.

Morgan put his hand on Reid's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Auditory and tactile hallucinations are symptoms of schizophrenia." Reid said hopelessly.

"They're also symptoms of extreme stress and fatigue." Morgan pointed out. "And the more you stress about what it _could_ be, the worse they'll get."

Reid nodded.

"I think you should consider talking to Young about this." Morgan said.

"No. No way."

"I know he pissed you off, but if it means he might be able to give you something to help make these symptoms go away, or to help you sleep, don't you think it's worth giving him a second chance? I know you, okay? I know that you're stubborn as hell when it comes to accepting help, and I know that you'd _never_ have told me what you just told me if it wasn't scaring you pretty badly. So please just try and cooperate with him?"

"Alright. I'll think about it." He said blankly.

_Like hell he will._ Morgan thought, and sighed. He could tell from the young man's posture and tone that he was only saying that to shut him up.

He stood up and poured the coffee, mainly to give himself time to calm down and think what to say. He put a mug down in front of Reid and took one himself.

"Thanks." Reid said distractedly.

"S'okay." Morgan smiled at him.

Then they heard the door open and Hotch, Rossi and JJ stumbled in from the howling blizzard which had started outside.

"Where's coffee? Need coffee." JJ shivered as she wandered into the kitchen, pink-cheeked and caked in snow. Reid handed her his own.

"Your need is greater than mine." He smiled.

"Oh such a gentleman." She smiled back at him and ruffled his hair.

Morgan tried not to mind that she got a smile and he didn't.

"I'll make some more." He muttered as Hotch and Rossi entered the kitchen and made praying motions to him with their hands.

There was a strange holiday vibe among them as they stood around chatting in the warm kitchen, even though they were still talking about work.

"So what's the plan to keep the guests safe?" Morgan asked, bending to retrieve a filter from the cupboard next to the sink.

"We worked out a patrol schedule with the police and the hotel's security guards. The guests staying in the main hotel have been moved as close together as possible to make guarding more effective."

"Aren't we forgetting something?" Reid asked.

"You mean that our unsub could be a security guard?" Rossi said. "Yes, we considered that, but we can't exactly tell the guests not to trust the security team and the security guards not to trust each other. It would cause panic. We have to trust the profile. There's no way a guy like this unsub doesn't have a violent criminal record and Garcia checked out all the guards."

"Did Garcia find any other guests which match his victimology?" Morgan asked.

"there were two young brunette couples but they were moved up to the main hotel, and we know he prefers not to take his victims from there." JJ said.

"Good." Morgan said.

"Okay, so once we've got sorted out here we'll be splitting up into two groups. Dave, myself and Reid will investigate the cabins of the three couples, while Morgan and JJ will be shadowing Mr and Mrs Prentiss while they dine up at the hotel." Hotch said.

"Hell yeah! That means dinner on expenses. C'mere mama." Morgan high-fived JJ, who laughed. He gave her a quick hug. Okay so she wasn't his number one choice of dinner companion at the moment, but he knew he would remember how much he liked her once she and Reid weren't in the same room.

"Which brings us to sleeping arrangements." Hotch said. "This place has three bedrooms, one with a double bed and separate bathroom, one with twins and one with a single bed."

"So who's sharing with who?" Morgan asked tentatively, sensing things were about to get uncomfortably intimate for two members of the team.

"Oh hell no, I am _not_ sharing with a boy." JJ laughed.

"JJ can take the single room." Hotch said. She nodded and left them to it.

"Then…" he faltered. "Are you two okay sharing a room?"

Reid looked at Morgan, as if it were up to him. Morgan nodded and shrugged.

"Sure. I don't wanna be seeing you old timers in your pyjamas." He grinned cheekily.

"Ah ha ha. You just earned yourself first shift on night watch my friend." Rossi smiled vindictively. Morgan made a face.

"So who gets the double and who gets the twins?" asked Hotch, evidently torn between not wanting to make Reid and Morgan feel uncomfortable, and not wanting to share a bed with a snoring Rossi.

"Flip for it?" Morgan suggested, keeping his tone casual to show Hotch he didn't need to worry. "Heads, you get the double. Tails we get it. Okay?"

They flipped a coin and it was heads. Morgan felt a guilty prickle of excitement. Rossi and Hotch went off to unpack.

There was an awkward silence.

"So…I guess we're sharing a bed then." He said to Reid, as casually as he could manage.

"I'll take the couch downstairs if you want." Reid said, keeping his face expressionless.

"What? No! Why would you say that?" Morgan was taken aback. "You think I'm some homophobic asshole who can't handle sleeping in the same bed as another man?"

"No! Of course not." Reid said helplessly.

"Then why did you think I'd want that? Or…" he tried to calm down and think it through properly. "Or are you uncomfortable sharing with me because of what they made us do?" he asked gently, hoping it wasn't that.

"No it's not that! I just thought maybe you…I don't know! Just forget it!" Reid said, rubbing the side of his head with his knuckles like he was in pain.

"Please Reid. Tell me what's going on with you."

Reid stood up and leaned on the opposite counter looking across the room at him with a blank expression.

"I just thought… you wouldn't want to share a room with me, let alone a bed…because…" he looked down.

"Because what?" Morgan asked impatiently.

"Remember Alaska?" Reid said tensely.

"Yeah…sure. The kid who was hunting the town's people. What does that have to do with…ohhhh." Morgan closed his eyes and winced at his own stupidity. "At the inn, I said 'I'm not sharing with Reid.'"

Reid shrugged. "Yeah. Um… did you really not want to share with me, or…?"

Morgan closed the gap between them and hugged him tightly. Reid flinched in surprise but then linked his arms around Morgan's waist, and settled his chin and then his forehead against his broad shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to take that seriously!" Morgan laughed. "I didn't know you then as well as I do now and it didn't occur to me that it would stick in your mind forever until after I said it, and I thought about apologising but I was too embarrassed to bring it up."

Reid lifted his head anxiously. "What about the time I came late from the movies? Rossi said 'I hope she was worth it' and you said 'I hope she was a she.' That strongly suggested both that you thought I could be, and that you carried an aversion to homosexuals."

Morgan tried hard not to laugh.

"I don't Reid. Not at all. I was just wisecracking. It was a dumb thing to say and I'm sorry."

(The truth was he'd been so jealous at the thought of his pretty boy having a date that he'd childishly wanted to burst his bubble with a juvenile insult. Again, he'd regretted it the second it came out of his mouth, especially since deep down he wanted Reid to be happy, whoever that was with. And the biggest kick of guilt had been when Prentiss had pointed out the movie excuse was more than likely a cover for his 'problems.')

"Oh. It's okay." Reid said looking a little less dejected. "I think rationally I knew that you weren't serious. But recently it's been like…I mean…something occurs to me and then other stuff all seems to support the hypothesis and then I can't stop thinking the thing and I get obsessed. One of the pitfalls of having an eidetic memory I guess."

"Oh." Morgan said, trying to understand. "So…that crazy stuff about me wanting you fired…that's what that was?"

"Sort of…I don't really know. It seems irrational to me already. I don't know if I really even believed it at the time. I'm just so tired I can't seem to…" he didn't want to use the phrase that medical professionals used to describe schizophrenia, but he couldn't seem to find another one which fit. "…to order my thoughts." He looked down and let his arms fall to his sides.

Morgan released him a little but kept his hands on Reid's shoulders. He felt like the conversation needed to be led away from schizophrenia once and for all.

"So, um…" he stumbled awkwardly. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to talk about it, but…I mean I never asked…" he raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

There was an awkward pause.

"You mean am I homosexual?" Reid asked quietly, looking into his eyes and swallowing.

"Yeah…I mean it's not important or anything. I love you no matter what you are." Morgan said quickly. Reid looked almost as taken aback as he was. Love? Oh God why did he say that? They'd never said that to each other before and now was not the sort of conversation to just drop it into. What if Reid took it the wrong way?

Even if the wrong way was secretly the right way...oh God this was so complicated he had no idea why he'd even asked the question anymore.

He knew Reid was, if not totally asexual, not exactly enthusiastic about the idea of sex with either gender. But he was curious to know what Reid considered himself to be.

Reid's gaze fell to Morgan's mouth, almost undetectably briefly before he looked back at his eyes and then away altogether. He folded his arms and fixed an amused smile on his face.

"No Morgan. I'm not gay." He laughed, unaware that for Morgan hearing those words was a little like being _stabbed_ in the chest, even though he'd already known that the answer probably wouldn't be what he wanted to hear.

"I love you too though. In a totally heterosexual way." Reid said with a smile, slightly stemming the blood flow from Morgan's chest cavity. "You're like, my best friend I think."

_Hey. He loves me back. That's pretty cool. _Morgan grinned and ruffled Reid's hair.

"Yeah...you too kid."

When he thought about it, of course Reid would identify as heterosexual when asked. Even if he'd never had or even wanted to have a single sexual encounter with anyone in his whole life. He didn't need any more things that made him different, that attracted attention to him.

Or maybe he just thought Morgan would be able to relate to him better if he said he was straight? Or he didn't fully trust him. He hoped it wasn't that.

Rossi came into the kitchen and told them to get a move on. The Prentiss's were on the move.

...

Half an hour later Rossi, Reid and Hotch were standing in the living room of the cabin which had been inhabited by Josephine and Sam Keller with the two officers, all wearing plastic gloves.

"They were probably his first kill. He must have lacked confidence." Reid said. "Do you think he targeted them inside their cabin?"

"He would have had a hell of a job getting past the security features. It would have been easier to wait until they were outside." Rossi said.

"So I've been watching them, learning their habits. I need to take them both somewhere isolated to kill the husband and cut out his heart." Hotch said. "It would have been difficult for me to move two bodies alone. The most effective way would be to threaten them with a firearm of some sort, or to use some kind of ruse."

"The Tox Screen indicated a high level of benzodiazepines present in the female victim's blood, along with a puncture mark on her thigh. So at what point did he drug her?" Rossi said.

"Difficult to say. We need to find the secondary location he led them to." Reid said, staring at the coffee table, which had two cleared plates and glasses from when the couple had eaten breakfast. Officer Dane saw him looking.

"At least they had a good fried breakfast before they went." He said profoundly, seemingly trying to cheer them all up. They all turned to stare at him, unsure whether he was being crass and insensitive or whether he was genuinely that optimistic. Seeing their reaction, he coughed and looked sheepish.

"The autopsy didn't reveal anything in the male victim's stomach." Reid said, confused, flipping through the file. "The female victim ate a meal of this description around lunchtime, but he didn't."

"So who ate the second meal?" Officer Dane asked. His expression changed as it suddenly dawned on him. "Oh that's just sick. He made her cook for him?"

"Send it to the lab for DNA testing to make sure." Hotch said. Officer Dane nodded and bagged up the glasses and plates.

"So assuming she didn't just invite a stranger home for lunch, that means the husband was already incapacitated by this time." Rossi remarked.

"Could he have taken the husband to the secondary location already, and threatened to kill him if she tried to escape?" Hotch asked.

"That would explain why she cooperated with him." Rossi nodded. "We need to find out where he kept them."

"And we need to find the other two couples." Reid said.

...

At around 11pm Reid and Hotch were in the kitchen making up for having missed out on dinner. Rossi was monitoring the CCTV feed and eating in the living room.

Reid was making himself a cheese sandwich but he was too uneasy to feel like eating anything when Hotch kept looking at him calculatingly, like he was about to say something Reid wouldn't like. Reid sat down at the table to eat, and when he'd finished Hotch finally spoke up.

"I texted Young to ask him to meet you tomorrow evening for another counselling session."

"That's way too risky," Reid was stunned at his boss's lack of judgement. "if the unsub sees us talking…"

"There's a popular event that the hotel usually holds in the woods on Saturdays, called the Men's Wilderness Gathering. It's a meal served around campfires and there are activities such as survival skills, making fire, chopping wood, archery and whittling. It's been moved into the hotel courtyard in light of the situation, and we'll all be there guarding and conducting interviews with the guests. You and Young can easily slip away for an hour and if the unsub is watching it will just look like you met him and had a conversation." Hotch said calmly.

"Great. It'll be really easy for me to relax and talk about my feelings when there's a killer out there and the only person around to help me would be _Young_." Reid muttered resentfully.

"It's too early for him to take Young, and you don't match his victimology. We will keep an eye on you from a distance and it will be very well lit in that area. I'm sorry it's not ideal, but I'm asking you to do this anyway. You agreed to this condition before we came, remember?"

Reid fell silent. He knew there was no getting out of this.

He tried to appreciate the fact that Hotch was trying to help him, but why couldn't he see that this wasn't what Reid wanted? He wanted to get his life back to normal as quickly as possible and never think about the Faraday brothers ever again. Therapy was literally the worst thing anybody could do to him right now.

"What is it with Young? Why did you choose him for us?" he asked, despairingly.

Hotch folded his arms, leaning back against a counter.

"Did you know we were at the academy together?" he asked.

Reid raised his eyebrows. "You mean he was training to be in the FBI?"

"He was top of the class. It secretly drove me mad because it seemed like he never did any work. Then in our third month there our room-mates both dropped out and we were moved into the same room. And I found out that all the laziness and laid back attitude to the job was just a front. Every evening he played around with his many friends, and then came up and worked half the night."

"Idiot." Reid muttered.

"That was exactly what I thought. I told him it would catch up with him eventually and he would regret wasting this opportunity we'd all been given."

"And?"

"And he listened to me. He ditched his admirers, studied and trained at reasonable hours. We became rivals and he would probably have beaten me in our final exam…if circumstances hadn't prevented him taking his place. We kept in touch, but I didn't see him again for years."

"When you divorced Haley?" Reid asked.

"Yes. I knew he went to university majoring in psychology, and did a PhD, and he'd made a name for himself as a private counsellor. I arranged a session with him, but I kept chickening out and cancelling until finally he showed up at my home and demanded that I talk to him. Even then it took me a stupidly long time to accept that I needed his help. But I'm so glad that I did. These past few years…the Boston Reaper…Haley's death…it's been hell. I don't know how I would've got through it without him."

Reid looked down at the table. There was a strange lump in his throat.

"I don't doubt his brilliance. But I don't think he understands…this." He seemed to concentrate very hard on tearing up a crust of bread.

Hotch sat down in the chair next to him. "In our first session I punched him."

"What?"

"He has an incredible knack for guessing exactly what you want to avoid talking about and bluntly forcing it out into the open. He would have been a very skilled agent." Hotch said with a wry smile. "Anyway…something happened on the Boston Reaper case which I never shared with anyone, and..."

He looked down uncomfortably and seemed to get stuck for a moment. He'd not mentioned the Boston Reaper case voluntarily since it ended.

"…and I'll never know how he did it but somehow he got it out of me, and suddenly it didn't seem so terrible or shameful anymore. So I think if you carry on with this then maybe you'll see that he understands more than you think."

Reid nodded. He didn't know what to say so he didn't reply. Hotch gave him an embarrassed 'I've been talking about my feelings for far too long' smile and gave him a manly pat on the shoulder before going to join Rossi.

_Shameful? _

Reid wondered what his boss was referring to as he went upstairs to read in his room. _  
_

**Ugh. This chapter. I don't know why but I really struggled. It felt really forced, and very time I read it through I was like oh damn this is boring, but then I realised that was because I've already read through it like 27 times. I don't know. I apologise if it sucked. There is beautiful angst to come, I swear. **

**Also, the thing with Hotch, everyone knows what I'm referencing right? Cos I swear they just casually dropped that line about the Boston Reaper showing Hotch he wasn't impotent into the episode, and then NEVER MENTIONED IT AGAIN. And I would have been so interested to see how such a tough and stoic guy like Hotch would deal with that, but I'm not sure whether it actually happened or not, or whether it was meant to be left up to the audience's interpretation. So anyway, in my criminal minds universe it did happen. **

***cuddles Hotch* there there. ^^ You're still the manliest agent on the team, don't worry.**

**By the way did anyone else find the reaper strangely attractive? xD Maybe my next fanfiction can be an AU BDSM Hotch/Reaper story. ****If I ever finish this one =_= and my other one. ****Damn why can't I just give up all this school nonsense and write fanfiction full time?**

**Anyway, the reviews...well on the one hand I think I got more reviews for this chapter than I ever have before, and it's reached over 100, so that was pretty cool. :) they had some pretty mixed feedback though. Dr Young apparently rubbed a few people up the wrong way slightly...'^^ whoops.**

**To the guest who called him a mary sue, ****I appreciate your honesty and you taking the time to review me I guess, but **OUCH man! Don't be so quick to try and predict where I'm going with him. I'm under no illusion that them seeing a psychologist is all it takes to make them better, and Young is witty and funny because a) any psychologist who is going to help Reid has to be smart. and b) because I thought I could use him for some comic relief, since I don't want to depress everyone too much. And no Reid can not 'have some self awareness and maturity' because he is sick and he is traumatised and HE IS HURTING INSIDE. *cries and points at the mean reviewer* 

**No seriously, thank you. I know my writing isn't perfect, and some of the comments made me realise I was about to make a few horrible mistakes which I have now hopefully remedied. So thank you for your help keeping this story on the right track. **


	15. Chapter 15

When he and JJ got back to the cabin Morgan went upstairs and pushed open the bedroom door. Reid was sitting cross-legged on their bed with an open book in his lap. A honey-brown lock of hair had fallen from where it was usually tucked behind his ear and hid his face partly from view, begging to be gently brushed aside to make way for a dreamy, languid kiss.

(Was it his imagination or was he getting steadily worse at ignoring these types of thoughts?)

"Hey." Reid looked up and smiled. "How did surveillance go?"

Morgan sat down heavily on the bed.

"Hard to say. A few people looked at them but no one really stood out. JJ reckoned there was this teenage boy on a school trip with his class who was staring at Prentiss a little funny, but _all_ of the boys were staring at her," he smirked. "She was wearing a very uhh...revealing top you know what I mean? Hell _I_ couldn't stop staring at her. I think Young was the only guy in the place able to keep his eyes on her face. And that was purely out of fear."

"They're hitting it off then?"

"Well they argue as much as any married couple I've ever met, so yeah…I reckon this case could spark something." Morgan raised his eyebrows suggestively and leaned back on his elbows.

"Nothing like being bait for a serial killer to bring two people together."

"It was a hell of a boring dinner though." Morgan sighed.

"Hey at least you _got_ dinner!" Reid said indignantly.

"Yeah…I guess the food was pretty good." Morgan smirked.

"Go on then, what did you have?"

"Sirloin steak and fries." Morgan closed his eyes and made a blissful 'mmmmmm' sound.

"Hate you." Reid poked him in the spine with his toe.

"What did you have?"

"Bread and cheese."

"Awww poor baby genius." Morgan patted him on the head.

Reid nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Anyway, Hotch and Rossi want to go to bed so we've got to change over now." Said Morgan.

Reid put his book on the bedside table and they went downstairs to relieve their yawning bosses of their duty.

"How the hell are we meant to stay awake until four in the morning?" Reid sighed, looking unenthusiastically through the board games on the bookshelf next to the chimney breast.

_Well I suppose I could always pin you down on this couch right here and kiss you until our lips are sore and you're all cute and flustered… _

Morgan glanced at the shelf quickly before settling onto the couch to watch the CCTV camera feed on the screen of the laptop, which was sat on the coffee table.

"How 'bout a game of chess?" he asked.

"Really?" Reid said with a smirk.

"Hey I'm good at chess!" Morgan protested with a pout. "I may not be Gideon but I'm more than just a pretty face!"

Reid smiled shyly, "No. I know."

Morgan shook his head. "Come on. Set the board out genius."

"Even though we both know I'll win?"

Morgan gave a wry smile. "What can I say? I'm in a masochistic kind of mood."

Just under ten minutes later, Reid had Morgan at checkmate.

"Oh my god. You couldn't go easy on me even a little?" Morgan groaned.

"I was going easy on you!" Reid protested.

Morgan groaned again and got to his feet.

"Watch the screen. I need coffee if I'm gonna get through another round of this with my honour intact."

"Ok, can you make me one too please?"

"Are you sure? You should probably slow down on the caffeine if you're going to have any chance of sleeping tonight."

Reid looked annoyed.

"It doesn't make any difference." He said.

"Still, maybe you should just have…"

"I may be going crazy, but I'm still an adult. I don't need your input on simple life choices just yet." He snapped.

Morgan put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, and went into the kitchen. When he came back with two mugs of coffee in his hands Reid apologised straight away.

"It's just really frustrating when you imply that…that I'm somehow _choosing_ to suffer." He said, looking down so his hair fell forward over his eyes.

"I wasn't thinking that. I really…I just want to help." Morgan frowned, sitting back down.

"I know." Reid nodded sadly. "But please trust me, I have tried literally _everythin_g, and nothing helps. I just have to wait for it to go away."

Morgan let the argument drop.

"You're not going crazy." he said firmly.

"Sure feels like it." Reid said despondently. He picked up the pieces and reset them on the chessboard.

"Anyway, we'll call the first one a practise round. I promise I'll be gentle with you this time." He grinned slyly.

"Oh you'll be gentle with me huh? What, are you taking my chess virginity now?" Morgan teased.

Reid turned red.

"You gonna show me some of them moves you got pretty boy?" he continued suggestively, enjoying himself far too much at watching Reid get all agitated and squirmy.

"I've changed my mind. My victory will be brutal." Reid muttered darkly.

...

"Are you sure about that move?" Reid smirked over the top of his mug.

Morgan looked down at the board, which was now sitting on the couch between them. They were now on their fifth game and Morgan had held out a maximum of 20 minutes, after which he began to lose the will to live.

Reid on the other hand, was sitting with his knees up, feet twitching happily in their mismatched socks (one sock had snowmen, the other had snowflakes, so at least they had a consistent theme today) and looked perfectly cheerful.

Morgan had one foot up on the wooden coffee table, one tucked underneath him, and his elbow propping his head up on the back of the couch as he tried to stop dozing off between moves. He tried to recall why the move he'd made had seemed like a good idea, and instead came up with the image of his brain as an upturned tortoise, waggling its feet in the air uselessly in an attempt to right itself.

"I have no idea." He groaned.

Reid laughed. "Lucky for you it's time to change over now." he said, standing up. "Shall I wake them while you keep watch?"

Morgan yawned and nodded at the same time.

Morgan was just finishing brushing his teeth when Reid came up from the changeover.

"I bet JJ and Hotch were pleased to see you." He said through his mouthful of toothpaste and toothbrush.

Reid smiled and nodded, but it was a distracted smile. He stood with his arms folded around himself, looking bleakly at the bed in front of him. Morgan spat into the sink, rinsed his mouth and dried his face.

"Will you be able to sleep?" he asked, concerned. He wandered over to the dresser and retrieved a black T-shirt with blue and grey plaid pyjama bottoms.

"Maybe." Reid said.

Morgan hesitated with the pyjamas in his hand, wondering whether he should change in the bathroom to avoid making Reid uncomfortable, or whether that would make Reid think Morgan thought that Reid was perving on him.

He decided just to strip there in the bedroom like it wasn't a big deal. Reid followed his lead and started changing into grey flannel pyjama bottoms and a cuddly winter themed knitted sweater which made him look like an adorable dorky twelve year old. And still the sexiest thing Morgan had ever seen.

_Great. He's going to make me develop some kind of fetish for knitwear now. _

He caught sight of the brutal 'Bad boy' scar on the lower left side of his abdomen. It had healed over but it was still red and raised and painful looking. Reid saw him looking at it and pulled the sweater down quickly before getting into bed. Morgan took off his own shirt and pulled on the T-shirt as quickly as he could, feeling irrationally guilty that his own body had gone unscarred.

Sleeping in the same bed was strangely non-awkward, all things considered. It had been a long time since Morgan had slept beside a man, but it was okay. Comfortable even. He felt lucky that their friendship had survived such a huge amount so miraculously intact.

He wanted to stay awake for a while to appreciate the warmth of the body sleeping next to him, to privately indulge in his fantasy that they were more than friends for a little while, but he fell asleep almost immediately.

Reid wasn't so lucky.

He too was comfortable, for around ten minutes anyway. But then he felt Morgan stop moving around and start to breathe evenly, and then felt the pressure of staying still so as not to wake his companion, when normally he was a restless sleeper who turned over every five minutes. As a result of his self-discipline he did fall asleep for a short time, but then awoke into a weird half-conscious state where his thoughts turned into a stressful, incoherent mess, more like delusions than dreams.

He thought of those bodies, suspended in that black, bottomless lake, of the cold lily-white of their decomposing skin and eyeballs dissolving in their sockets. He dreamt he was in a boat in the dark, trying to find his way to the shore, but there was no land in sight and he was conscious of an evil presence circling silently somewhere in the icy, endless water like a deadly shark or a prehistoric monster of some kind, but with human intelligence and a supernatural power that knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly where he was at all times. It was coming towards him, he knew and he knew he had to act fast to save himself but he was filled up with a sense of helpless dread as if he were facing Death himself, and had no right to try and avoid him.

He clawed his way into consciousness and sat up. He was freezing cold but his fringe was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He brushed it back and waited for his heartbeat to return to normal. He hadn't experienced such a potent and abstract nightmare since he was a young child. Normally his nightmares were at least linear and dealt with tangible fears like previously faced unsubs coming back to kill him, or bad things happening to the people he cared about. This was how he imagined it felt to be mad, trapped in a nonsensical fantasy world which was horrifying for no describable reason, as if the insulation had been scraped off his nerves and somebody was directly stimulating his fear response.

He wrapped his arms around his knees and looked at Morgan who was peacefully asleep on his left side, facing towards him. He felt a little better, safer with Morgan so close by. He watched his friend for a while. He would feel bad waking him up over a nightmare when he'd had so little sleep himself, but part of him desperately wished he would wake up on his own and ask him what was wrong.

His breathing remained steady. Suddenly Reid was savagely envious, resenting the fact that Morgan was able to sleep so easily and he couldn't. He knew blaming Morgan for that made no sense, but he couldn't help it. And that made him feel guilty, and then he resented Morgan for making him feel guilty, and so on.

His head was such a mess.

He knew trying to sleep again would only bring back the scary half-way state, so he stood up, shivering and went to the bathroom. The thought of having to get up and dressed for work in a few hours brought panicked tears to his eyes. But he had fought to be allowed on this case and now his team needed him. The hotel guests needed him.

He stopped crying simply because it was a waste of energy he didn't have. He looked in the mirror as he washed his hands. He looked about ten years older than his age, his eyes were bloodshot and he had lost so much weight he was starting to look like an anorexic . But caring about his appearance was another thing he didn't have the energy for. He arranged some towels in the bathtub, fetched the book he'd started earlier and sat in the tub to read his way through the long night.

Just four more days to survive through until the last of the withdrawal symptoms were completely gone from his system. Then he could get back to normal.

...

Morgan came downstairs to find Reid sitting at the counter in the kitchen perched over a bowl of cereal which had long gone mushy. He hadn't thought it was possible for Reid to look anymore exhausted than he had the night before but he'd been wrong. It looked like he still hadn't managed to sleep. He looked up at Morgan but didn't say good morning or smile or anything.

Morgan walked behind him and placed a hand on his tensed shoulder, and just kept it there, stroking the back of his neck with his thumb like a half-massage. He was pretty sure that nothing he could say would help in the slightest, so he just showed his affection and support through touch. Reid let out a long breath and relaxed into Morgan's hand slightly.

Then Hotch came into the kitchen and gave Morgan a concerned look and Morgan stopped what he was doing because Reid didn't want Hotch to know how bad he was feeling, and because when Hotch looked at him like that it reminded him that he knew about Morgan's feelings for Reid and it didn't exactly look good, him touching Reid like that, even though he didn't mean it the way Hotch probably thought he meant it. He sat down and poured himself some cereal.

"Morning." He said to Hotch, who nodded. "So what's the game plan for today?" he asked.

"According to the timeline we put together the three couples went skiing on their first day. You and I will accompany Prentiss and Young to the activity centre, while Reid and Rossi work on finding out where the unsub took the victims and where the bodies are now."

Rossi joined them and they finished up breakfast and headed out, with great difficulty since the weather had worsened overnight and there was no way in hell they could use the car. The snow had stopped now but the sky was an ominous grey. JJ went up to the hotel to try and get through to the police department in town to update them about the investigation and give a statement to the press.

Luckily they were pretty close to the hotel, so they didn't have to trek for miles in a foot and a half deep snow, and once they got there the hotel provided transportation up the side of the mountain where the Winter Fun Activity Centre sat looking down on the resort. They sat down on a bench to watch Prentiss and Young trying to ski. It was hilarious. Young had horrific balance. He literally could not stay upright for more than ten seconds and whenever he got up to any level of speed he would slip up and fall on his ass, often taking Prentiss and the instructor out at the same time.

"Pretty amazing view." Morgan said, the first thing either of them had said since they'd set out.

Hotch gave a grunt of noncommittal agreement.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm in trouble again?" Morgan sighed after a long pause.

Hotch shook his head.

"You aren't." he said.

There was another long pause where he seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

"I don't want to interfere in your friendship with Reid…"

Why did Morgan sense a 'but'?

"But I just wondered if you realise how much you…touch him?"

"Excuse me?" Morgan tensed. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you calling me unprofessional?"

"No, I'm not saying that. You're obviously a very physically affectionate person, not just towards Reid but towards everybody. It's just that recently every time I turn around I seem to see you touching him some way or another."

"Woah what!?" Morgan said indignantly, standing up angrily. "Okay look, you walked in at a bad time this morning but don't just assume…I would never do anything inappropriate!"

"I know." Hotch said calmly. "I understand that you care about him a great deal, and I'm sure you would never put your friendship with him at risk. I just want you to be careful."

"Careful of what?" Morgan demanded. "Because in case you hadn't noticed, I am pretty skilled at keeping my feelings hidden."

"I'm not questioning that." Hotch agreed. "But the second thing I wanted to bring to your attention is that…" he hesitated. "…I've also noticed that Reid is far more receptive to physical contact with you than anybody else."

Morgan raised his eyebrows. He was starting to feel like a teenage boy getting 'the talk' from his dad. He started pacing in front of the bench agitatedly.

"My worry is, that Reid isn't the most perceptive when it comes to romantic advances." Hotch continued. "So even if he has no feelings for you he may inadvertently encourage them."

Morgan was reminded of the night Reid asked him to sleep beside him, and then asked him to leave two minutes later. He stopped pacing.

"I know that." He said uncertainly. "But I'm prepared for that. I'm not expecting anything from him. I never have."

"Maybe not consciously. But you wouldn't be the first to get…carried away. In the heat of the moment." Hotch said awkwardly.

Yup. Definitely starting to sound like the sex talk.

"And that leads me to my second worry, which is that Reid might have feelings for you, or think he does."

Morgan shuffled his feet in the snow.

"You think because we…because of what happened to us, he may be showing signs of transference? Onto me?"

"That's a possibility." Hotch said, standing up.

"You don't think…you don't think there's any possibility…?" Morgan fought to keep his voice casual.

"That he might genuinely return your feelings?" Hotch said.

Hearing it said out loud like that, Morgan immediately felt stupid for even asking.

Hotch thought for a moment. "I wish I could say I did Morgan. I really do."

Morgan nodded

"Right. I guess I knew that." He said and turned away, knowing his expression would say too much about how he felt. It had started snowing again lightly, and he tilted his head up to watch the snowflakes falling.

"It's very unlikely to be anything more than a symptom of the trauma he's been through." Hotch said apologetically, putting a hand on his shoulder. "But…you know him better than anybody. I'm not saying there's absolutely no chance that his feelings could be real. The situation may have jolted him into facing up to his sexuality. Or it could be that the support you've given him since has made him feel close to you."

"But it's unlikely."

"Yes. I'm sorry." Hotch genuinely did sound sorry. "And I'm not supposed to encourage you on this, but for what it's worth I really wish it could work out for you both. You deserve to be happy, and I think you would be good together."

Morgan was surprised and touched at his boss's support.

"Thanks Hotch." He said warmly.

Hotch grunted and mumbled gruffly that they were wasting time before signalling to the on duty policemen to take over surveillance and heading towards the door of the activity centre. Morgan chuckled and shook his head before following him.

There was a guy behind the desk who looked to be mid or late twenties. He had dark hair cut short, almost military short, and dark almond shaped eyes. He was tall and looked very physically fit. He was dressed in a khaki T-shirt and grey waterproof ski pants so Morgan guessed he was a skiing instructor.

He was talking on his mobile and flipping through an appointment book on the desk. He had a slight Eastern European accent, and his face had a hint of the Russian nose and close set eyebrows associated with that region. He looked irritated and harassed, and sounded like he was in the middle of an argument with somebody. When he saw them walk in he reacted strangely.

"I talk to you later kokhana." He said expressionlessly. "The agents are here."

He pressed the 'end call' button and put his phone down.

"Sorry to bother you Mr…?" Hotch said.

"Kurkov. Viktor Kurkov."

"Are you the boss around here?" Morgan asked.

"I am Winter Sports Director yes."

"Would you mind answering some questions about the couples who were murdered?"

Viktor shrugged with an air of passive-aggressive hostility and lead them down the corridor into a small meeting room.

They sat down.

"Were you their instructor during their stay?"

"The Kellers and the Brooks were mine. My wife took the Fosters."

"Your wife?" Morgan said. "That who you were talking to on the phone?"

Viktor nodded, glaring slightly.

"Sounded like you were fighting? Something wrong?"

"What goes on between my wife and I is our business."

"Normally I'd agree with you, but unfortunately two people are dead and four more are missing, and you and your wife spent the most time with them before they died, so I think you'd better start talking." Morgan said, irritated by the guy's attitude.

Viktor scowled. "It is like you said. People are being killed. She is scared and says she does not want to come to work. But I tell her our employer has made it very clear that if we don't he will give us the sack, because rich people want to go skiing even though people are dead, and so rich people must be allowed to ski."

"Did you notice anything unusual while you were teaching them? Was anyone behaving strangely?"

Viktor shrugged.

"Did the couples you taught seem worried or tense about anything?"

"No. They were in love and happy. They were like little kids playing in the snow."

"And nobody showed up to watch? It could have been someone you wouldn't normally notice, a security guard, or another instructor."

"I don't know. I wasn't really paying attention." He softened slightly. "I wish I had. They were my responsibility. I should have realised sooner that they had both disappeared on the same night. Then maybe the third couple would have been saved."

"So you saw them later on as well?" Hotch asked.

"Yes. Instructors have to attend the Wilderness Gathering on Saturday and the Winter Wonderland Masked Ball on Sunday. It is part of our job to make sure they feel comfortable socialising with other guests and that they have a good time."

"Did you talk to them?" Morgan asked.

"A little on Saturday. I asked if they were having fun and they told me they were. The two women, Josephine and Judy, they were not shy. They spoke to many people while their husbands took part in the competitions. At the dance though I only saw them briefly and then I could not find them."

Morgan's eyes widened. "You saw them on Sunday night? Both of them?"

Viktor looked confused. "Yes."

"They were wearing masks?"

"Yes."

Morgan and Hotch exchanged looks.

"We know from this unsub's method of killing that he took the victims to an isolated location to kill the men before drowning the women in the lake. Do you know of any place that would suit his needs? Privacy, access to the lake, somewhere with running water to clean the blood off his hands?"

Viktor sat up a little straighter. His eyes darted around the room.

"I don't know of any place like that. Sorry, I need to get back to work. I have a session booked for now."

"Alright. We understand. Thank you for your time." Hotch said.

...

"Did you see that?" Morgan asked once they got outside.

"His body language changed entirely when we asked about the location."

"You think he knows where the unsub took them?"

"That doesn't make any sense. If he knows then why would he lie? Unless he's implicated somehow."

"I'll call Garcia, ask her to run a background check on this guy." Morgan took out his phone. "Damn. No signal. It'll have to wait until we get back." He looked at Hotch. "Can you believe the unsub attended the dance with her as well as eating with her?"

"He must've figured it was safe since he was wearing a mask, no one would recognise him." Hotch remarked.

"And he used the whereabouts of the husbands as leverage to make the women play along." Morgan nodded.

"We'd better head back and tell the others what we found."

...

**Yes. It's official. Hotch secretly ships the Sperek. xD **

**Sorry again for the long wait. Irritating life stuff got in the way. **

**Review tiiime~**

**NazzyWazzy - hehe thank you! Your comments are always very encouraging :) thank you for saying Reid is in character as that is something I worry about a lot. and yes xD these boys are so silly, they can never just say what they feel. but you know you love the drama ;) also I should make it clear that in my head Reid doesn't realise yet that he likes Morgan *that* way. He is totally oblivious and won't figure it out until it sneaks up behind him and clubs him over the head ^^ which will be quite soon.**

**BertieBott62442 - I'm glad you're enjoying my story, and my pain lol xD thanks for saying that I use words well, that was really nice to hear :) hearing what my readers liked about what I've written is like the most encouraging thing ever so thanks :)**

**Medeia456 - Thank you for telling me you're excited about my story :) it's very comforting to know, since I really found the last chapter hard. I really appreciate it. And yes, I agree, the spotlight will very much stay on our favourite two agents. **

**antigone21 - Thanks for the words of encouragement! I'm so happy my story gets to be one of your favourites! I hope this chapter has enough nice cuddly moreid lovin for you xD**

**LaRieNGuBleR - Glad you find Young to be acceptably qualified xD and I KNOW. WHY CAN THEY NOT JUST FALL INTO EACH OTHER'S ARMS ALREADY? Why did I make this story so long? xD **

**Lissa - Ooh thank you for educating me xD I will look for that movie the next time I have time to watch a movie. *that could be a while '* I will do my best to bring you prompt and abundant Reid/Morgan lovin ;)**

**Kisa167 - Awww *blushes* thank you. I hope you continue to enjoy :)**

**Tekie Scythe - Lol your comments made me smile xD I love how you talk directly to the characters. *I do that too sometimes* xD I'm glad they're as real for you as they are for me ^^ and yes, pedophile is spelt paedophile in england. and we pronounce it 'peedophile'**

**Pipinheart - Yes. I think Young knows how to push everybody's buttons. xD he tries to provoke people into talking and sometimes it backfires. I have duly scolded him, made him stand in the corner for an hour and demanded that he apologises to Reid in the next chapter. **

**I think that's everybody? Sorry if I missed anyone. Know that I am grateful to you all :)**


	16. Chapter 16

Reid and Rossi were in the kitchen of the cabin leaning over a map which was spread out on the table. Reid had his nerd glasses on and was busily calculating probabilities and drawing circles while Rossi was reading through the case details again, stroking his beard thoughtfully. The atmosphere was a little awkward, as Reid and Rossi hadn't been alone together since Rossi had watched the Faraday Case tapes with Hotch, and they hadn't spoken about it at all.

Rossi felt that he should say something, like 'are you okay?' But he obviously wasn't, and if there was one thing Rossi couldn't stand, it was pointless questions.

The kid looked pretty damned awful though. His usually neat hair looked like it hadn't been brushed or washed yet that day, his skin was sallow and washed out and his eyes had dark circles underneath. He was wearing a baggy knitted sweater which hid his shape, but Rossi hadn't seen him eat anything in days, and suspected he was even skinnier than usual underneath.

"Reid…" he began.

"I'm okay." Reid said reflexively without even looking up. Rossi chuckled, obviously Reid had been asked that question so many times he could now sense it coming long before it was said.

"No, you're not, but that wasn't what I was going to say."

"Oh. Sorry." Reid said.

There was a long pause.

"So what were you going to say?" Reid prompted, impatient to return to his task.

Rossi smiled. "I just wanted to tell you…how strong I think you are. And that I'm proud to work with you."

Reid looked surprised and embarrassed, but not displeased.

"Thank you." He said with an awkward smile.

Rossi nodded. "You're welcome."

Just at that moment Morgan and Hotch got back.

"We're in here." Rossi called. They came into the kitchen and told them what they'd discovered about Viktor Kurkov. "Interesting." Rossi remarked when they'd finished. "Could he be our unsub?"

"Well, we profiled the unsub to be a white male with dark hair between the ages of 20 – 40, so in that respect he's a match. But we also said the unsub is an impotent sexual sadist who feels he has been wronged by a woman in his life. Kurkov is married." Hotch said.

"They _were_ arguing. Perhaps the marriage isn't going so well." Morgan said. He turned to Reid, "Oh by the way, any idea what 'kokhana' means?"

"Um…I think it's Ukrainian. It's a term of endearment, like 'darling' or 'love.'"

Morgan shook his head. "I don't think this is our guy. If he'd said that in English I might have thought it was for our benefit. But if he knew we wouldn't understand then he obviously meant it. And I think a guilty man would have tried to hide the argument better, to show us what a nice guy he is."

"I'll ask Garcia to do a background check on him anyway. He was definitely hiding something." Hotch said, dialling her number. "Garcia, I need you to get me some information on a guy named Viktor Kurkov."

"What kind of information?"

"I'm not sure. Employment, criminal, medical, anything which stands out."

There was a short pause.

"Okay…so he arrived in America ten years ago with his brother and his wife, though she wasn't his wife back then. They started a business together, made heck of a lot of money and then sold it and bought a hotel…ohh! Their hotel is less than an hour away from the White Star Resort, is that the kind of thing you're looking for?"

"Yes, what was it called?"

"The Creekside Hotel."

Reid bent over the map again, tracing a road line with his finger. "Hey I'm pretty sure I saw that around here somewhere…here it is, The Creekside Hotel. Right in the middle of my calculated probability zone." He pointed to a shaded area on the grid. "The grounds practically back onto the lake. So how come they don't own it anymore?"

"They still do, but it's not in use anymore. They lost business to the larger White Star Resort when it opened and couldn't afford to keep it open. And by the look of things it's about to be sold to some stinking rich couple who want to turn it into a stately home and make it their summer residence."

"No wonder Kurkov has a chip on his shoulder when it comes to rich people." Morgan said.

"We'd better go check it out." Hotch said. "Thanks Garcia."

...

Ten minutes later they were in the cars, armed and wearing bulletproof vests. They were accompanied by the two officers, Dane and Jarvis. They made it to The Creekside Hotel building in just over half an hour, since there was just one large, mostly empty road which stretched around the lake.

They piled out of the car and Morgan kicked down the front door and they spread out into the rooms, followed by several shouts of 'Clear!'

Morgan ran around to the back of the building, sticking close to the walls, when suddenly he came across a large, heavy oak door. He was about to kick it down when he realised it was already slightly ajar. He pushed it open quietly and stepped inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he saw them; the bodies of Max and Judy Brook laid out side by side on the floor. The woman had been stabbed repeatedly, so had the husband. He was blindfolded and her eyes were open, her mouth was too and she was reaching out to him as if she had died calling out his name.

A movement caught his eye and he saw a figure in a black hooded sweatshirt, who was scrubbing blood off the wall of the room, which he now recognised as an opulently dilapidated old ballroom.

"DOWN ON YOUR KNEES! PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!" Morgan yelled.

The man dropped his bucket and scrubbing brush and put his hands on his head before falling to his knees. Morgan unhooked his cuffs from his belt and slapped them around the guy's wrists before yanking him round to face him.

"Viktor Kurkov." Morgan said. "You are under arrest." Kurkov glared at him.

Morgan raised his hand to his radio and called the others.

They took Kurkov to the small police station in the local town. They left him to sit for a while in the cold interrogation room, and watched him getting more and more tense, slumping in the plastic chair like a teenager in detention and scowling at the one way mirror they were observing him through.

Eventually Hotch went in and started the recorder, explained to Kurkov his rights and asked if he wanted to request legal assistance. Kurkov glowered and grunted 'no.'

"The Creekside Hotel belongs to you, doesn't it?" Hotch began.

"Yes."

"How many guests did you take this year?"

"Do not play games with me agent Hotchner." Kurkov snapped defensively. "If you are going to waste my time with questions, then at least ask questions which you do not already know the answers."

"How does it feel to have to work for the company which stole your business? I've seen how much you used to earn. How did it feel to be downgraded and shunted into the background?"

A muscle twitched in the man's jaw and he turned his face to the side.

"I wasn't thrilled." He said.

"Did you want revenge? Is that what this is about? Getting your own back on the company which bankrupted you by tarnishing their reputation, making people scared to go there?"

Kurkov laughed. "That's what you think this is about?"

"So what is it about then?"

"How should I know?" Kurkov shrugged.

"The victims' blood was found all over your hands and clothes. You stabbed them both to death."

"They were dead when I got there."

"So how did you get their blood on your clothes?"

"I moved them. Turned their bodies over."

"Why would you do that? And why were you cleaning their blood off the wall?" Hotch asked coldly.

Guilt flickered across Kurkov's eyes but he remained defiantly sullen.

"As I'm sure you know I am in the process of selling that property. The buyers would pay me significantly less money if they knew six people had been slaughtered here, don't you think?"

"So you were going to do what with the bodies exactly?"

"The same as the killer. Dump them in the lake. I knew they would be found sooner or later. What did it matter to anyone where that happened to be?"

"You said six. Does that mean you moved the bodies of Sarah and Greg Foster as well?"

"No. I assumed the killer had got to them first. I didn't kill them. Now am I going to be charged for anything or can I leave?"

"I have one more question. What was written on the wall?" Hotch asked.

That caught him off guard.

"What?" he said, stalling for time.

"The killer used their blood to write on the wall. Must have been important. What did it say?"

Kurkov opened his mouth, but then shut it and glared. "I've changed my mind. I want a lawyer."

Hotch got up and left the room without a word.

"Well, there's definitely something he's trying to hide from us." Hotch said.

"He deflected almost every question with another question." Rossi remarked. "He's certainly defensive."

"But he's not our unsub." Morgan said.

"No." Said Hotch.

"Definitely not, I mean, why would he come back to clean up his own crime scene? It doesn't make sense. And the way he positioned the bodies side by side like that shows a level of compassion and respect for the dead which wouldn't even occur to a sadistic psychopath like this unsub." Rossi said.

"The M.O. was different this time." Morgan said. "Was that just because the police are dragging the lake and there are too many people?"

"That would have been frustrating for him, not being able to complete the fantasy. That could be why he lost control and went into a stabbing frenzy, and could have prompted the message on the wall. Or he could just be devolving, and couldn't organise his thoughts long enough to plan his route to the lake." Rossi replied.

Hotch picked up one of the case photos showing the corpses of the Kellers. "All of this symbolism…the way the bodies were arranged, it was like he wanted to position them so that they would be together for eternity. Maybe he just doesn't want them disturbed? So he's got to find a new place to hide them where they won't be found."

"Do CSI know what the message he left was about?" Morgan asked.

"They haven't called. Jarvis warned me their department isn't exactly well staffed or well-equipped so we could be waiting for a while." Rossi replied.

"A while is exactly what we don't have." Hotch rubbed his temples wearily. "The planes are still down, so we're all trapped until further notice, the guests are starting to get nervous with every second he's out there, and the police are going to happily make us the scapegoats if anything goes wrong. And I really didn't want to have to use Prentiss and Young as anything other than a last resort anyway."

"Well we can hold him for tonight at least, maybe a night in the cells will make him think again about whether his secret is worth going to jail for." Morgan said.

"Do you think the murders are about him? Someone could be trying to frame him." Rossi said.

"Who?" Morgan said. "Garcia didn't find anything else wrong with this guy, no dodgy business deals, no criminal record. His personality leaves a lot to be desired but there's no evidence to suggest anyone bears a grudge against him."

"Unless things are tenser with his wife than we thought." Rossi said.

"Reid? You okay man?" Morgan asked Reid quietly, realising he hadn't spoken since they caught Kurkov.

He was sitting on an office chair with one leg folded underneath him and his elbow on the desk, staring at some spot on the floor a couple of feet in front of him. He blinked himself out of his daze and replied, "Um…I was just thinking…" he frowned. "This unsub seems to feel extremely confident when he wears a mask. That's why he felt comfortable at the masked ball. He could have some kind of disfigurement…that would explain why he doesn't use a ruse. He doesn't feel able to charm them in situations…where they can see his face."

He rested his forehead on the heel of his hand and stifled a yawn with the other hand, as if following that train of thought had worn him out.

"Yeah…that would make sense. Your average unconfident hit-em-over-the-head-and-be-done-with-it unsub doesn't generally risk getting caught just to attend a dance. They'd practically kill to _avoid_ social situations like that. Why do you think he did that anyway? Was he mocking us?" Morgan asked.

"If he does have a disfigurement, that could have lead to or at least intensified his hatred for women. If the women he found attractive shunned him because of his appearance he may find that wearing a mask empowers him." Hotch said.

"That whole ritual, the eating together, attending the dance, that could all be some kind of twisted way for him to imagine that they're in a relationship." asked Rossi.

"He's pretending to be dating them?" Morgan asked with a disgusted expression.

They all looked up as Officer Dane walked in with a fat bald man with a briefcase and glasses who introduced himself as Viktor Kurkov's lawyer.

Rossi and Morgan took a turn at questioning Kurkov again, but hours ticked by and Kurkov refused to budge.

"This is getting us nowhere." Hotch sighed as Morgan and Rossi came back out. "We need to get back, the Wilderness Gathering starts soon. Let's go. Kurkov will still be here tomorrow."


	17. Chapter 17

The Wilderness event was held in the large square garden in the centre of the hotel building. The doors to the courtyard were all locked except one, so that guests could use the restroom, which was also guarded. Everywhere was brightly lit and the place was swarming with security guards. Many of the guests had objected, saying it was ridiculous to hold an outdoor activity session under the current circumstances, until Hotch pointed out that with everyone sticking together they would be much harder for a killer to reach, and that guests were welcome to take matters into their own hands and barricade themselves in their rooms, but that they could not all expect a personal security guard in each room. A few families decided to take that option, but most felt that there was safety in numbers.

They interviewed the guests while they ate round a large campfire eating hot dogs and s'mores. Morgan kept an eye on Prentiss and Young, who looked very cute fake-holding hands and getting ridiculously competitive about every activity.

Taking a break from interviews, Morgan and Reid went and toasted some marshmallows on the white dusty embers at the edge of the fire.

"Find anything interesting?" Morgan asked.

"Oh yeah. It seems like everybody has a theory." Reid smiled and yawned, rotating his stick to give his marshmallow an even honey-brown coat. "Most of them seem to think the manager is the unsub."

Morgan laughed. "You can see their point." He looked over at Orwell, who was 'mingling' with his guests. Meaning he was inadvertently making little children cry and women feel uncomfortable with his creepy smiles and winks.

"Nice job on your marshmallow there." Morgan complimented Reid.

"Thank you. I like them nice and brown." Reid smiled.

Morgan raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Reid's eyes widened, "I meant marshmallows!"

Morgan clapped him on the shoulder with pride. "Nothing wrong with liking a little brown sugar in your diet." He laughed. "If you can handle it that is."

Reid blushed and tried to deflect the direction the conversation was taking.

"Well at least _I_ have some kind of system! Your technique seems to consist of shoving it in as far as it'll go until it catches fire." Morgan burst out laughing again and Reid covered his face with his hand as he realised what he'd just said.

"Yup, sounds about right." Morgan grinned.

"Your mind is a filthy, filthy place Derek Morgan." Reid shook his head.

"Oh you don't know the half of it pretty boy." He winked and pushed the three marshmallows he was toasting into his mouth.

(Just a bit of harmless banter between friends. That was all. Not flirting. Not at all.)

"Hey, can you pass me the marshmallows?" a voice came from behind Reid.

"Oh, sure." Reid smiled politely and held out the bag to a black haired boy of around fifteen or sixteen who was vaguely familiar to Morgan.

_That's right…he was the one JJ thought was staring at Prentiss a little too much. _He remembered, instantly on his guard.

The boy was skinny with black rectangular framed glasses, black eyeliner and a long side fringe jammed under a black beanie hat. He didn't look like the outdoorsy type at all, dressed in black skinny jeans with ripped knees, a pretentiously faded Guns 'n Roses T-shirt and a zip up Slayer hoodie. On both wrists he wore knitted red and black arm warmers and a ton of worn out charity and festival wristbands.

Morgan instantly disliked him. He was all in favour of rock music and alternative fashion, it made a refreshing change from pop culture, and he thought the emo style looked pretty cool on some people.

But there was something about _some _kids who used this fashion to get attention, which seriously got on his nerves. It was the way they stood as if they thought that the whole world thought them mysterious and dangerous, and the way they ostentatiously hid their wrists from sight in order to draw attention to the fact that they self-harmed, or to make people think they did. That was what disgusted him the most, as someone who understood all too well how much fear and guilt and self-loathing you had to have slowly rotting inside you in order for gouging into your own flesh to seem like a viable coping method. He felt like these kids were taking everything he went through and turning it into a parody, a twisted badge of pride. Mocking him.

(And he didn't thank Reid for passing him the marshmallows. Little shit.)

The kid looked at them curiously. "Hey…you're the FBI agents right?"

"Oh…yeah we're both agents. This is Agent Morgan, I'm Agent Reid."

"That's awesome. So do you, like carry guns and stuff?" The kid stabbed about five marshmallows onto his stick, grinning lasciviously.

"Uh…only when it's necessary." Reid replied, slightly unnerved. "What's your name?"

"Winston. Winston Cottonwick. I'm here on the gifted and talented enrichment scheme with my school." He said with a fake casual 'no big deal' kind of air, which was somehow even more sickening than outright gloating.

Reid smiled and nodded politely, though Morgan could sense that the irritation was mutual.

"So how come you clowns still haven't caught this son of a bitch yet?" Winston said innocently.

"Winston, that's enough!" came an exasperated voice from a man behind him. This man was probably in his early forties, but looked pretty good for his age in that tanned, still-in-shape, twinkly-eyed silver-fox (who under the right conditions, i.e. a lack of young talent and several too many glasses of wine, Morgan might actually go for.) kind of way. He was dressed casually in a plaid shirt, blue jeans and a thick black fleece, and he put a hand firmly on the kid's shoulder as if worried he was about to run off and do some damage.

"Hi there," he held out the other hand for Morgan to shake. "John Wotton. Sorry about this one, he has an unfortunate tendency to say things without thinking."

"Hey don't pretend you haven't been thinking the same thing!" Winston scowled. "Especially since it's so obvious who the killer is."

"This is not the time or the place to joke about this. Go back to your class." The teacher hissed at him.

"Wait a second, what did you mean by that?" Morgan asked Winston.

Winston smirked at his teacher, who glared daggers at him.

"See there's this local legend in the town about the monster who lives in the lake. Me and my brother saw it while we were camping in the woods last year, and it's not just us. Tons of people have seen it. That lake is cursed. They say that in some places the water goes right down into hell, and this creature swims up from the dark depths of the earth, and slithers out of the water every month and then a person goes missing, just like that. They never find anything left of 'em. Until now."

"It's just a story that started up a couple of years back." Wotton said, shaking his head and smiling at Morgan. "No one's ever been able to find anything in that lake, it's all nonsense. I'm sorry to have wasted your time with this agent."

"You said you saw this creature? What did it look like?" Morgan asked sceptically.

Winston's face lit up, "I only saw it for a minute. But it was like eight foot tall and covered in filthy black slime, and it shouted at us in this weird language. We ran away before it could kill us."

"We should really get back to the others now." Wotton said impatiently.

"Okay…well we'll keep that in mind. Thanks for your time." Reid said diplomatically.

"Man that kid gave me the creeps." Morgan said to Reid once they left.

"I thought the teacher was the creepy one." Reid said.

"Really?" Morgan was surprised, "I thought he seemed okay."

"I didn't like the way he grabbed that kid's shoulder. Did you see how hard he was gripping him? I'm sure that was hard enough to leave bruises. And the way he kept sucking up to us and trying to stop the boy from talking…"

"All teachers are like that, at least the older ones are. They're all about the discipline and children being seen and not heard."

"He definitely didn't want that boy being heard." Reid frowned.

Morgan shrugged and was about to reply when Young came over with a plate full of S'mores.

"Hey fellas. Having a good time?" he said, words slightly muffled by the food he was shovelling into his mouth.

"Yeah it's alright. You?" Morgan replied.

"Yeah, I could really get used to the outdoors lifestyle." He said. "I just learned how to sharpen a stick with a pen knife. I have no idea when that skill is supposed to be useful, but I suppose if anybody annoys me I now have a very sharp stick to stab them with." He waved his stick flamboyantly.

Morgan chuckled, and then there was a brief awkward pause.

"Um, I don't mean to kick you out of the conversation, but I'm under orders from Hotch to talk to Dr Reid inside." Young said to Morgan. "And I'd feel a lot more comfortable if you could convince Mrs Prentiss to put down that bow and arrow for me."

"Oh. Sure. I'll see you later then." He said, and left the smoky fireside to hang out with Hotch and Prentiss.

"We've got a private room this time." Young said to the young genius, who had gone very quiet. Reid nodded and followed him indoors, into a sort of meeting room with a large couch and some chairs and a low, polished oak table, with a large matching cabinet which held several books and a tray of bottles of liquor, as well as a really freaky china ornament of a fish, which had fallen onto its side. A security guard followed them to keep watch on the door.

Reid sat down on the edge of a chair, unfortunately facing the horrible fish ornament. Young sat diagonally opposite to him with his back to the cabinet, and started bouncing his ball off the table.

_This is going to be so awkward._ Reid thought, his stomach giving a queasy little flip.

"So. It's been a while since our last appointment." Young began.

Reid stared at the fish. It stared back at him through bulging eyes as if it had been gutted alive and was silently begging him to put it out of its misery. He felt a strange flood of empathy for it.

"...How badly did I screw up with you?" Young asked with a wry smile.

Reid didn't reply. After a while he gave a shrug and looked at the floor.

Young stopped bouncing the ball and put it down on the table to show he meant business.

"Okay. Bringing up something like that so publicly and bluntly was a shitty thing to do." Young said. "And I'm sorry. But if I'd done all that crap in the psychologist handbook with you, about how you can trust me and how everything we talk about stays confidential, and how you don't have to talk about things that make you uncomfortable, let's face it; you would have laughed in my face. Because you know that I'm just a person, I'm not a miracle worker, and you know that you won't trust me just because I tell you I'm trustworthy, you're perfectly capable of deciding that for yourself. And as for not talking about things that make you uncomfortable, well you and I both know that that's bullshit. Talking about stuff that makes you uncomfortable, that's what therapy _is. _And yeah it's hard and it's scary, but that's why you need me. If facing your issues wasn't scary you'd have done it yourself by now. What I can tell you is that I am very good at my job, I will always be as honest with you as I am legally allowed to be, and I am not going anywhere until you're better, no matter how long it takes."

He waited for Reid to reply. It was a long silence before he did.

"You'll be waiting a long time." He said, finally.

"Til death do us part then Twenty-eight." Young smiled.

"My name is Reid." Reid scowled.

"Finally, you corrected me." Young grinned. "Does that mean you're making a commitment to this?"

Reid looked up at the ceiling. "No." he said stubbornly.

Young laughed. "So shall we talk about how you're coping being back at work?"

"I'm coping fine."

"Anything else?"

"No."

There was another long silence. Young twiddled his thumbs and looked around the room, fidgeting and twitching like a hyperactive child.

"Hey, is there something going on between you and Morgan?" he asked suddenly with a smirk.

"_Oh my God!_" Reid snapped. "Are you going to come out with something inappropriate and personal _every _time I don't answer a question?"

"Well if you'd just answer them I wouldn't have to." Young pointed out.

"There's nothing going on with Morgan." Reid said firmly. "You're way off the mark there. He's straight and I'm…I'm straight too."

"Why the hesitation?"

"Well…" Reid looked uncomfortable. "I guess…it's more in theory than in practise. So I don't really know for sure. I assumed that I was."

"Oh." Young raised his eyebrows. "So until you and Morgan were forced to, you'd never actually…?"

Reid shook his head. He was blushing and already wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. He was half expecting some sarcastic jibe but for once thankfully Young wasn't a jerk about it.

"That must have made it even worse." He said.

"Yeah." Reid said shortly, his throat tightening up.

"You said…" Young said carefully, "You said you _assumed_ you were straight. Past tense. Does that mean you have doubts?"

"I don't know. I don't want to know." Reid frowned and shook his head.

"Fair enough. It's a personal choice. Don't you think you might be missing out though?"

Reid shrugged tensely and tucked his knees up under himself.

"Hasn't there ever been anyone you've wanted to...you know, with?"

Reid folded his arms around himself.

"I'm not asking for names or anything." Young smiled. "Just a yes or no would be fine."

"I don't know." Reid said finally. "It never really crossed my mind."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Does it matter?"

"It might. Freud was widely regarded as being batshit insane but I think he was right about the fact that a lot of human weirdness is down to sex."

"You think I'm weird?" Reid asked, frowning.

"No I didn't mean that. But you're 28 and you haven't even thought about having sex. You can't deny the fact that you're a statistical anomaly as human beings go."

"It really doesn't seem fair." Reid picked at a loose thread on the arm of his chair. "I mean, in high school the teachers were all 'don't have sex it'll ruin your life' and now if you don't do it normal or with acceptable frequency, people think you're sick or weird."

"Do you think maybe you still feel like you're not allowed? Like it's something to be ashamed of?"

Reid shrugged, slightly unnerved by how quickly Young had got to the root of his problem.

Young sat forward in his chair, lacing his fingers.

"D'you want to know why I don't write down you say in these sessions like most shrinks do?"

"I had wondered. But then you didn't have an office either so I decided just to go with it." Reid said with a wry smile.

"I used to, when I had my first job." Young said. "But then one day the cops turned up on my doorstep and said they had to confiscate my notes as evidence, because one of my clients, an _18 year old girl_ had been raped, and there was something in those notes…_my_ notes, which got the bastard off. It was because she'd confided in me about how she'd been tested for an STI." he slid his fingers into the hair above his ears.

"I tried to delay the cops. I really tried. I thought if I could get them to go away I could destroy the notes and say I'd lost them, so I said I'd left them at the office, but they'd already checked there. They came into my house, talking about rape and assault in front of my six year old nephew and my ten year old niece, and they ordered me to hand over my bag for them to check. They pulled those notes right out of my hands and threatened to charge me with perverting the course of justice. And once the notes got into the hands of the prosecution it was over. There was no point putting her through a court case. Once they had proof she was sexually active they would have torn her to shreds up there." he shook his head and rested his chin on his hand.

"She never spoke to me again. She dropped out of university because he was there and she was too ashamed to see him, too ashamed to face her friends because they all knew him. Shame is a very powerful, uniquely human emotion. It's one I see a lot in this job. And it is _always_ the victim who suffers from it. The evil little fuckers who rape, they're absolutely shameless." Young said, his eyes dark and his voice twisted up in anger. He looked at the floor, his elbows resting on his knees. "Anyway. What I think, what I've always thought, is that to move on from this you have to work on letting go of all this shame you're carrying round with you."

Reid nodded, the corners of his mouth jerking in a weak attempt at a smile.

"Easier said than done, I hear you thinking." Young smiled wryly. "Well yes. True. I know you're not big on talking, so I'm going to take an educated guess about something and if I'm wrong then you can correct me, okay?"

"Okay."

"After what happened, you didn't tell anybody. To the point where you lied to the police and to all your closest friends to protect your secret. Now I'm not judging you for a second about that, you did what you had to do. But what it tells me is that you think there's a chance that they won't understand, or that they won't handle it so well and that scares the hell out of you, so you avoid the risk. What do you think it is that you're so scared they would think of you?"

For a long time Reid just stared at the floor. Young waited patiently, letting Reid set his own pace.

Finally Reid shook his head, and looked up before he spoke, his voice quiet and uncertain and tight,

"That...if I'd fought harder maybe we could have…" he stopped and looked away again.

"If you'd fought harder you'd be dead." Young said matter-of-factly.

"Maybe that would be better." Reid said tiredly, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

"Is that something you think about a lot?" Young asked calmly.

For a moment Reid didn't reply.

"No. I don't mean it. I'm just tired. It's been a difficult case." He said finally, in a stiff, mechanical voice.

"Right." Young said lightly.

"Um, that reminds me, I wanted to ask you; as a psychiatrist, would you be able to prescribe sleeping pills to somebody with a history of addiction to narcotics?"

Young raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, no I don't mean to kill myself with. I mean for insomnia." Reid laughed.

"Uh, well…that depends, if you're talking the heavy duty benzodiazepines like Valium then no I probably wouldn't recommend it. Unless it was an emergency I mean."

"Oh." Reid said quietly.

"Are you having sleep problems?"

"Uh…a bit. I'll be okay." Reid said.

_Just a few more nights to go anyway. _He tried to cheer himself up.

"Okay then. I think we've been away long enough to keep Hotch happy. Are you ready to go or would you like a bit more time?"

"I'd like to go now." Reid said quickly.

Young laughed. "Why am I not surprised? Okay. But the day after we get back to Virginia I want to see you again, and if I have to use Hotch as leverage then I will."

Reid smiled weakly. They turned out the lights and walked back into the courtyard.

Morgan and Hotch were standing next to the wood chopping activity area, which consisted of five tree stumps with piles of logs beside them. Morgan looked up and waved them over.

Just as Reid headed in their direction a very tall guy in a baseball cap brushed past him from behind and said, "Hey, you dropped this." And handed Reid his phone.

"Oh, thanks." Reid looked around but the guy had gone.

_I hadn't even realised I'd dropped it. _He thought, confused, but before he could think about it anymore Morgan came up to him.

"Check her out." Morgan said and gestured over to where Prentiss was thrashing all the instructors in an archery competition.

Young wolf whistled at her and shouted "MAKE THEM CRY HONEY!"

She looked round and gave him a smile which to the oblivious onlooker would pass for affection, but which actually meant Young was all kinds of screwed.

"If you imagine the way a female spider looks at a male right after he's impregnated her and she's about to eat him. That's the look she's giving you." Reid remarked helpfully.

"Somehow that just makes her hotter." Young said wistfully.

"Now now tiger." Morgan laughed. "We'd better release some of that one-sided sexual tension into something more constructive."

He handed Young and Reid two axes and took the third for himself. "Time for us to prove we are truly masters of the wilderness."

"Oh man I've always wanted to try this!" Young perked up.

He positioned a log on a stump, checked for any rogue small children dashing underfoot, and swung the axe down with a dramatic grunt. He missed. His axe caught the edge of the log and sent it skidding sideways, so the unfortunate couple standing nearby had to dodge.

Once everybody had proceeded to laugh at him, Reid and Morgan tried.

"This is surprisingly therapeutic." Reid said, after the third.

"Oh wow you've cut your log way straighter than mine." Morgan said.

"Thanks, I guess maybe my wood is more solid."

Young burst out laughing. "Seriously you guys are just doing this on purpose now."

Morgan shoved him playfully.

Young tried chopping his log again and a few more times until he'd got the hang of it.

"I HAVE NEVER FELT SO MANLY IN MY LIFE." He yelled, slamming his axe down.

"Hey, where'd the fifth axe go?" Reid asked as he and Morgan sat down on one of the big log benches.

"What?" Morgan asked.

"There are five stumps. You me and Young had an axe, and there was one left in the shed. That only makes four."

Morgan looked at him. "Maybe there were only four."

Reid nodded uneasily but quickly forgot. Hotch and Rossi came over with drinks and they all actually started to have a bit of fun for a while.

And then a woman screamed.

Everybody fell silent. Everyone looked around trying to see who was screaming.

"Up there!" Someone yelled. "Oh my god!"

Morgan looked up and saw something he would never be able to erase from his mind. Four corpses, one male late thirties maybe, a little boy and girl, and a baby, all hung from the neck with rope, side by side from oldest to youngest, swinging from the railings of their balcony. The mother was at the door, screaming over and over, trying to pull her children and her husband up onto the balcony but it was too late. They were all soaked in blood and their heads were split open. The little boy was so badly mutilated that his arm was severed and hanging by a thread of connecting tissue.

Reid was first to react. He was closest to the door and he ran for it, gun in hand. Hotch and Morgan followed while Rossi calmed everybody down and organised the cops and the medics.

They ran up the stairs to the third floor and stuck close to the walls.

"Morgan slow down! He could be waiting to ambush us!" Hotch said.

"We don't have time to be careful! He might still be in there with the mother!" Morgan snapped and started running. He got to the woman's apartment and hammered on the door.

"Ma'am! Please open the door, this is the FBI! Can you hear me?"

A few seconds later the door opened and the poor devastated woman fell into his arms, still screaming and crying like she was being tortured. The security guard assigned to them was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, face down. Morgan stood there and held her while Reid and Hotch checked the apartment.

"He's not here."

"Did you see where he went?" Morgan asked her, but she didn't seem to hear him.

Reid went outside ready to direct the medics to the room when they arrived. He leaned against the patterned wallpaper and closed his eyes. Then he slipped his hand into his pocket and took out his phone. He stared at it, feeling like there was something obvious he was missing.

He suddenly heard running footsteps and saw a flash of black in the corner of his eye. He looked up and strained his ears. The same feeling of paralysing fear he felt in his nightmare the night before crept into his muscles and suddenly he was too afraid to even breathe. He thought about the kid's story about the lake monster, and his dream of being out on the lake.

Then he reminded himself that this was not a monster, it was just a very twisted and evil human, and he was going to make that human pay for hurting that family.

He started running after the noise, round the corner just in time to see a figure in a black hooded robe. It turned to look at him and he saw that it had a yellow mask over its eyes. It ran through a door and into the stairwell.

Reid followed it up the stairs and into another corridor and round another corner, and stopped dead when he saw the puddles of green and black slime on the floor and the stairs and sprayed on the walls. At the end of the corridor there was a hideous figure, white and bloated like an underwater corpse, its flesh rotting and sliding off onto the floor, leaving raw, weeping patches of tissue.

It looked straight at Reid and he froze. It started gliding towards him and he fired his gun four times, but the bullets just stuck to the outside of its jellified skin and were absorbed. He turned round and stumbled away, trying to run but barely able to move, unable to even call out. He knew the thing was getting closer but he couldn't bring himself to turn round to look, and then he felt the slime crawl up his legs and seep right into his flesh, turning it rotten so his skin started to come away from his bones.

He screamed for Morgan and kept on screaming.

...


	18. Chapter 18

Then he felt strong arms grab him round his waist, and his skin didn't come off, because that was a hallucination and Morgan was holding him and saying things in the honey-sweet soothing voice he usually reserved for Garcia on the rare occasions she got stressed or freaked out.

He opened his eyes and looked up, and the slime and the figure were gone. He'd been screaming at an empty hallway.

How embarrassing.

"Shh, shh pretty boy! There's nothing there! You're fine! You're fine. Is it gone?" Morgan asked, looking around in alarm for whatever had got Reid so freaked.

Reid nodded and sank to the floor, his hands clutching the back of Morgan's black jacket. Morgan knelt with him and stroked his hair while he calmed down. The terror slowly subsided as he took deep breaths.

"Was it the Faradays again?" Morgan asked.

"No…" Reid chuckled in between breaths. "Lake monster and carnivorous black slime."

"Oh, much more pleasant company then." Morgan smiled. Reid laughed at that.

Morgan closed his eyes and said, "God when I heard you screaming…I thought the unsub…" he laughed shakily. He kissed the top of Reid's head and then pressed his cheek against it.

(He hoped it would just about pass for a platonic expression of relief and brotherly affection, but if it didn't, he didn't really care at that moment.)

Hotch's words about getting carried away in the heat of the moment resurfaced. He stood up and helped Reid to his feet.

"Did Hotch hear me?" Reid asked anxiously.

"No, I don't think so, they're on the other side of the building still. I only heard because I was looking for you."

"But I fired my gun…four times." Reid frowned.

"Nope. I would've heard. Must have been part of the vision." Morgan said. "A good thing too. You could've shot me."

"I'm so sorry." Reid closed his eyes and raised a hand to his forehead.

"It's not your fault." Morgan said, squeezing him into a quick hug. "C'mon, I'm taking you back to the cabin now. You need to rest."

Reid shook his head. "I won't be able to sleep. I want to help."

"I know you do, but it's too dangerous. You were in your right mind enough not to shoot somebody this time, but next time you might not be so lucky."

"So take my gun." Reid said stubbornly. Morgan sighed.

"Fine." He took Reid's gun and stuck it into the free holster on his hip. "But if any more lake monsters show up you'll warn me." He said firmly.

Reid nodded.

They took the elevator back to the third floor and followed the corridor round to where Hotch was talking to Rossi outside the room.

"Where did you two go? I don't remember authorising you to leave the crime scene." Hotch snapped.

"I'm sorry, I thought maybe I could find the murder weapon. And Morgan was just following me to make sure I was okay." Reid lied.

"Well did you find it?" Hotch asked, his eyes flicking down to the empty holster on Reid's belt, and Morgan's extra gun, reading the situation in their body language.

"No, but I think I know what it was." Reid said. "I noticed right before the murder that one of the axes was missing from the woodcutter activity station."

"That's right, I remember." Morgan nodded.

"The wounds were consistent with an axe." Rossi said.

Hotch phoned Officer Jarvis and asked him to check how many axes there were.

"Um…five sir."

"Have them all tested for traces of blood." Hotch ordered him.

Hotch was not in a good mood. None of them were, but he really took it personally when kids were involved.

"There's something else." Reid said quietly. It had come to him just before he'd had the hallucination.

They all turned to look at him.

"Right before, a guy in a red baseball cap knocked into me and handed me my cell phone, saying I'd dropped it. But the thing is…I'd been walking on concrete. I would have heard if my phone fell out of my pocket. I think it fell out in the meeting room when I was talking to Young."

Morgan looked at him blankly. "What are you saying?"

"That I think the unsub was hiding in the cabinet with a bloody murder weapon while we were talking in there."

All three mouths dropped open.

"What!?" Morgan looked so horrified it almost made Reid want to laugh. It sounded so bizarre that it still hadn't quite sunk in for him yet.

"There was a porcelain fish ornament on top of the cupboard which had fallen on its side, and I remember thinking how strange that was since the window was closed, so there was no draft. It must have been knocked over when he climbed in to hide from us, on his way back from the murder scene." Reid explained calmly.

"So that means he knows Young is with the FBI." Hotch said grimly. "This just gets better and better."

"No I don't think so. He would have heard our voices but he couldn't see anything and we didn't mention Prentiss or the plan or anything. And even if he could see us, Young was sitting with his back to the cabinet. He would only have seen me."

"This unsub is really pissing me off now." Morgan scowled. "Coming right up to you and giving you your phone like that, that was unbelievably bold."

"Did you see his face?" Hotch asked.

"Not very well. Like I said, he was wearing a baseball cap and dark glasses, and my attention was drawn to the phone. I don't know if I'd recognise him again."

Hotch thought for a moment, his eyes narrowed.

"Morgan stay here I want to talk to you. You two go back and help the police control the guests." He said.

Once Reid and Rossi left he looked at Morgan and asked, "What really happened? Why do you have Reid's gun?"

Morgan looked guilty. "Reid had a hallucination where he fired his gun." He confessed. "He didn't actually fire it, but I thought it would be safer if he didn't have it on him."

"And you didn't think this was something I needed to be aware of?" Hotch asked icily.

"Well I'm sorry Hotch but the last time I told you Reid was struggling you told me to back off!" Morgan bristled angrily.

"There's a difference between not looking for problems and covering them up! What else haven't you told me about his mental state?"

"Nothing! I swear! He's not been sleeping much but there was nothing which made me think he was unfit to work!" Morgan protested. "I would have told you!"

"An entire family has just been slaughtered." Hotch rubbed his temples. "The guests are panicking and pointing fingers at our team, and if any of them had come across one of our agents screaming at thin air, do you realise how much it could damage us?"

"I'm sorry Hotch. It won't happen again."

"No I won't. I'm sending you and Reid back to the cabin right now. Rossi and I will handle this by ourselves."

"Hey look, I know I screwed up but I'm fit to work! You can still use me! What good is punishing me going to do?" Morgan argued.

"I'm not punishing you. I just know you wouldn't be able to keep your mind on the job if Reid was on his own, especially now you know the killer has seen his face."

Morgan fell silent and nodded.

"You're right. He's broken his M.O. there's no predicting what he'll do next." He sighed.

"We see serial killers devolving all the time, getting desperate and sloppy. He doesn't seem to be doing that. He's getting even more confident, and more angry." Hotch said. "It takes a huge amount of recklessness and psychopathy to pull something like this off. It's almost like he wants to get caught. He's doing this to prove a point. And every time he gets away with it his narcissism is being reinforced. He must think he's a God by now."

"Why do you think he's attacking families?"

"I think more than likely it was just a crime of opportunity. The family isolated themselves, made themselves easier targets. He was angry that his usual victims and dump site was made unavailable to him, so he made it as brutal as he could and hung them up for us as a message. Another message."

"He's definitely trying to tell us something." Morgan agreed. "Okay. I'll go get Reid and we'll head back. But keep us updated if anything happens."

"I will." Hotch nodded.

...

When Morgan got out into the courtyard it was quiet. The hotel doors had been locked, guests had been shepherded into the large function room and hotel staff were working in teams accompanied by security to get mattresses down from the rooms. A description of the unsub had been given to the guests along with advice on how to keep safe. JJ had her hands full calming people down but as always she worked her magic. A small number of guests had left against the advice of the FBI, saying they would rather risk the snowstorm and freezing to death in their cars, than stay locked in with a serial killer. But they couldn't worry about those people right now. The police would deal with emergencies not on hotel grounds.

He bumped into Prentiss standing outside the men's room on the other side of the building, looking very pissed off.

"Hey." He said. "Where's your husband?"

She opened the door to the men's room and loud vomiting noises floated out, as if in answer to his question.

"Answering once and for all the question why Mr Smartypants never joined the FBI." She said witheringly.

"Well I'm _sorry_ I seem to have such an intolerance to the sight of dead children." Young said sarcastically, but his words were weak and slurred, and his comeback didn't have the usual snarky bite to it. His sorry state reminded Morgan how much his own emotional responses had become desensitised to violent deaths. That was always an uncomfortable feeling.

"Give him a break." Morgan said to Prentiss quietly, and went into the cubicle. Young was slumped against the wall with his head in his hands. He'd gone pale as an anaemic ghost and his eyes were red from throwing up so much.

"I'll be alright in a minute."

"No you won't."

"Well I'll stop vomiting at least."

Morgan crouched down beside him, not knowing what to say.

"So have you caught the fucker yet?" Young asked with an unusual bitterness in his tone.

"Nope. We're getting closer though."

"Do you still need us to act as bait?"

"Probably yeah. We thought the unsub might have found out you're with us, but Reid reckons we're safe. "

"What? How could he have found out?" Young frowned.

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

Young didn't argue.

"So are we staying in the hotel tonight?"

"Yeah I think so. We need to make you available to the unsub, but without making it obvious that that's what we're doing, so for tonight you'll have to stay with everyone else or it'll look suspicious. We've got until tomorrow night to come up with a plan."

"Better be a fucking brilliant plan." Young chuckled dryly. "I quite like my internal organs where they are."

Morgan laughed.

Prentiss came into the room.

"Hey! Men's room! No girls allowed." Young protested.

"I raided the minibar." She held out a handful of tiny bottles of whisky.

"Oooh gimme." Young screwed off the top, glugged it back and then downed a second bottle and made a face when it burned his throat. "You _do_ love me!" he smiled at her.

Prentiss yanked him to his feet and glared. "Suddenly the prospect of eating your heart doesn't seem so terrible." She said, but her voice was softer than usual. "C'mon lets go find a bed."

"In the same sentence you insult me and then ask me to go to bed with you." Young complained dramatically. "You're unbelievable."

She rolled her eyes.

"So divorce me." She said and lead him away.

"Hey wait, have you guys seen Reid?" he called after them.

"He's in the function room with Rossi I think." Prentiss replied.

"Alright, thanks." Morgan said.

...

He walked through the chattering crowd, scanning the function room for Reid. He found him by the coffee machine, drinking from a cardboard cup. He eyed the cup worriedly.

"Don't worry it's decaf." Reid smiled. "Want some?"

"Sure. Thanks." Morgan nodded. "Has Hotch spoken to you yet?"

"No he hasn't. Why, what's up?"

"He doesn't want either of us working this case while you're having these symptoms. He told me to take you back to the cabin."

"Oh. Right." Reid's face fell.

"He's just worried, that's all."

"Yeah. Worried I'll disrupt the investigation and give Strauss an excuse to break up the team. He wants me out of harm's way." He handed Morgan the warm drink.

"Come on man, he's worried about you. So am I." Morgan said softly.

Reid finished his cup and threw it away. "Come on, let's go."

Morgan nodded and they started walking towards the hotel exit.

"We could walk. It probably wouldn't take more than a few minutes, but it might be safer to take one of the hotel's snowproof cars so we can get back faster if something happens." He said.

Reid shrugged. "Whatever." He sounded so frustrated.

Morgan wanted to hug him again. But he didn't.

...

Reid closed the door behind them and Morgan turned on the lights. They went through and checked all the rooms, in the wardrobes, under the beds and locked all the windows and doors then closed all the blinds. It was a little paranoid since there was a very small chance the killer would strike again tonight, but it made them feel safer. Morgan kept both their guns to hand and reset the alarm.

It was weird to know that they weren't part of the investigation anymore. Reid sat down at the table and Morgan made them some toast and scrambled eggs since neither of them had had much time to eat at the gathering. He had the eggs in a pan on the stove when his phone buzzed on the counter next to him and he reached to look at it so hastily that he not only managed to sweep his coffee off the counter and down himself, but then in reacting to that caught the side of his right hand on the hot pan and swore loudly.

"Oh! Goddamned _fuck!_" he hissed.

Reid stood up worriedly and took his hand, turning it round so he could see the blister.

"Here." He said quietly, pulling him over to the sink and running it under the cold tap.

"I do know how to take care of a burn." Morgan said sulkily, despite quite liking the attention.

"I know you do. But you're a disaster area when you're in this kind of mood." Reid smiled.

"Oh yeah? What mood is that?" Morgan demanded indignantly.

"When you think you've screwed up. You blame yourself and you get all loud and frustrated." Reid said matter-of-factly.

Morgan could have sworn he could see the hint of a slight teasing smirk hovering at the corners of his mouth. He wasn't used to Reid teasing him. It was usually the other way round.

That was kind of hot. It suddenly dawned on him how close they were standing, shoulder to shoulder at the sink, Reid holding his hand and concentrating so completely on what he was doing that Morgan was free to stare at him. He couldn't stop his gaze dropping to look at his mouth, imagining how easy it would be to just swoop in there and kiss him. He could do it. Reid probably wouldn't see it coming until it was too late. Even while it was happening he'd probably still be wracking his brains for some innocent explanation as to why Morgan's tongue was in his mouth.

Morgan couldn't help smiling at the thought.

In actual fact Reid wasn't as oblivious to the situation as Morgan assumed. He felt Morgan's eyes on him and the heat that seemed to radiate from his body, just as keenly as Morgan did. He concentrated on treating Morgan's hand because he didn't know what to think, and it scared him.

Young's question was still in the back of his mind. He'd rejected the notion outright, thinking it was just Young being weird, but now he wondered whether the counsellor had seen something in him that he hadn't been able to recognise himself. He'd been vaguely aware of some strange tension growing between him and Morgan, and now things which had been bugging him for a while were falling into place. His own feelings were starting to make a lot more sense.

Like why he'd felt so annoyed and betrayed that Morgan was talking and confiding in Young, why he'd been immediately comforted and brought down from the hallucination just by having Morgan's arms around him, and why he sort of missed them when he'd taken them away. Why sharing a bed after what had happened to them didn't feel weird, even knowing Morgan had seen him naked.

He looked at Morgan, hoping to God his blush wasn't too noticeable. "Better yet?"

"Not really." Morgan winced.

"Well, I think the cold water has done all it can." Reid reached behind Morgan awkwardly and grabbed a clean tea towel from the rack on the oven door. He folded it into a long strip and wrapped it around Morgan's hand neatly and not too tight. Morgan made a hissing noise of discomfort as the pain returned.

"Sorry. But I think you'll live." Reid said. "I'll go get you some aspirin."

"Thanks." Morgan smiled at him and it made Reid's tummy feel strange. No. No. He couldn't afford to let himself develop transference feelings for a co-worker. It was unprofessional. Not to mention pathetic.

He told himself this over and over as he went upstairs and opened his bag and searched for aspirin. It didn't make any sense. Morgan was like a brother to him.

Oh God. The other night Morgan had actually asked him whether he was…did that mean Morgan suspected it too? Was his crush so blindingly obvious to everyone but him?

He went back downstairs and handed Morgan the pills.

_Just act normally. Don't do anything rash. You can analyse these feelings later and work out a way to get rid of them._

Morgan took the aspirin with water. In Reid's absence he'd managed to rescue the eggs and serve them into something resembling food.

"I'll just change my shirt." Morgan looked down at his coffee soaked black T-shirt and made a disgusted face. "Ugh."

Then in typical thoughtless Morgan style he tugged the hem of his shirt up and then reached behind to pull the back of it over his head right there in the kitchen. For the first time Reid let himself properly look at his friend's body through these new eyes, as a kind of experiment.

Yup. He definitely wanted that.

_Not that._ He corrected himself. _Him._ Objectifying people was wrong. But oh dear God _that_.

HOW HAD IT ESCAPED HIS NOTICE HOW UNBELIEVABLY HOT HIS BEST FRIEND WAS?

Morgan left the kitchen and went upstairs, blissfully unaware of the turmoil he left in his wake, and thankfully not noticing the curious, fiery shade of red his co-worker's face had gone.

Reid sat down at the table, in a slight state of shock. Of course he'd always known Morgan was attractive, in the same way he knew that JJ was blonde. But the message that his attractiveness attracted _him_ had somehow been delayed.

He put his head in his hands and scrunched his hair between his clenched fingers as the repercussions of this discovery ran through his mind.

He didn't particularly mind one way or another about his sexual orientation. He didn't think it had any impact on him as a person. Indeed he had preferred to separate himself from all that messiness altogether, since he felt there were far more important things for people to spend their energy on.

But for the record he was surprised it was men.

Completely baffled that it was this particular man.

And a little bit irked. Of all the men in the world he could have turned gay for, it would have to be the most heterosexual, charming, womanising man on the planet, sought after by so many women far more attractive than himself. The only reason Morgan had allowed Reid to get closer to him than any of these women was exactly the reason why they could never be romantically involved. Because they worked together and because he found Reid amusing and endearing and absolutely no threat.

Besides, even ignoring the gender and attractiveness issues the chances of him getting Morgan's attention for more than one night were slim. The worst part was that he was considering settling for that anyway.

Morgan came back in wearing a white T-shirt and the black jogging bottoms he wore in bed. He looked at Reid's untouched plate and frowned.

"Is it that bad?" he asked apologetically.

Reid jerked out of his thoughts. "Um, no, it's fine, I was just waiting for you." He picked up his fork and began eating.

"Oh. You didn't have to." Morgan smiled and joined him.

They ate the food in awkward silence.

"What did the text say?" Reid asked.

"Oh, I never read it." Morgan said. He leaned across to pick his phone up off the counter. "It's just JJ, asking if you're okay."

"Funny how she asks you and not me." Reid said irritably.

Morgan laughed. "That's because she knows you'll always say you're fine."

"That's not true." Reid scowled. "I wouldn't tell her I was fine if I'd just been hit by a car and my leg was hanging off."

Morgan laughed again before he realised Reid hadn't meant it as a joke. The genius was staring moodily at his food, stabbing the pieces of egg a little too vigorously.

"_Are_ you okay?" he asked seriously.

"I'm fi-" Reid stopped and scowled.

"Yeah. Right. I get it." Morgan sighed and shook his head.

They went back to silence. After they'd finished eating they watched TV for a while and Reid couldn't focus on anything they watched because he was too stressed out. In the end he just excused himself and went upstairs just to get away from Morgan so he could think.

He locked himself in the bathroom, and for a moment he just hopped up and down on the spot clutching his head. He let out a hoarse, muted scream, a long string of random syllables, since in all the languages he had stored in his mind there were no words invented yet which could accurately express how he was feeling. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and felt ridiculous. He was behaving like a proper schizophrenic now.

Wasn't falling in love supposed to be full of warm fuzzy feelings and happy endorphins? He just felt stressed, completely exposed and vulnerable. And he felt so unworthy and stupid to even hope for someone like Morgan to like someone like him as more than a friend.

He didn't know what to do. He was totally lost, and the one person he might have felt able to talk to about these embarrassing feelings WAS MORGAN.

He sat down on the edge of the bath and studied his reflection in the mirror opposite.

_What do I even want to happen? _He asked himself. _For him to kiss me? To go on dates every weekend__? To have sex with him?_

_All of the above?_

Those were, he'd gathered mainly from the media and from the few members of his peer group who hadn't shunned him, the basic rituals of romantic interaction. They'd always seemed so alien to him. But in a nice, unattainable kind of way.

He'd been kissed before. Once. In a pool. By a beautiful (but scarily unbothered by danger) actress. It had been rushed and he hadn't had time to enjoy it but it hadn't been bad. He'd sort of wanted to try it again but there was never an opportunity and if there had been he'd probably have been too chicken to take it.

And Morgan had kissed him when Eric Faraday had held a gun to his head. That was very different. But in a way it wasn't.

It had almost been exciting.

When it happened he'd felt so guilty because kissing Morgan hadn't felt as wrong as it should have in that situation. So much so that his mind had obviously repressed the idea entirely as an automatic defence mechanism. But now he realised doing that had really messed with his head, because subconsciously it made him feel like he deserved all of it, even the stuff he really didn't want. Like he didn't deserve any of the sympathy people gave him.

Just facing up to that was a relief somehow. Like understanding his emotions made him feel less guilty about them.

He hadn't wanted the rest of it. Not like that. But now he thought maybe part of him had been a little bit curious to see what it would be like, kissing a man and a friend.

And now apparently he was a lot curious.

That was okay. Liking to kiss people wasn't sick or twisted. In fact it was weird not to like it. That didn't make what had happened to him his fault.

It was quite sad to think how long it had taken for him to realise that.

Now the floodgates were open his mind kept showing him the memories of that night which he'd locked away. Of Morgan, naked and aroused and sweaty, all tattoos and rippling muscle crouched over Reid like a tiger.

And then the pain, the awful…

He closed his eyes.

Tears fell out of them, stroking warm lines down his cheeks.

_"Please…I-I want you to…to…"_

_"Yes Dr Reid?"_

_"To fuck me."_

_"Like a dirty whore." _

_"To…fuck me like a dirty whore."_

Reid stood up and wiped his eyes.

_You don't have to do this now. _He told himself. Sorting out his battered emotions could at least wait until he wasn't sleep deprived and confused and possibly walking along the borderline of a schizophrenic break. He needed to calm down.

He decided to run himself a bath. To relax, not to make himself cleaner and thus more attractive to Morgan. Not at all. He stripped and sank into the hot bubbly water.

Around ten minutes later he remembered why he never had baths. They always sounded so seductively relaxing when people described them, but he couldn't stop his mind racing through things he needed to get done afterwards, and obsessing over the fact that all the time he was in the bath he wasn't doing what he needed to do. They ended up amplifying his stress levels.

He washed his hair with the complementary shampoos and conditioners and then the rest of him with the bar of soap in the dish, and got out at least feeling cleaner than when he went in, but his mind was still buzzing with thoughts and his heart was pounding for no apparent reason. He put a towel around his waist and another around his shoulders like a cape, and went through to the bedroom. He changed into his pyjamas and got into bed, and prayed so hard that tonight would finally be the night where sleep returned to him. Surely he physically couldn't remain awake when he was this tired. He couldn't function like this for another day, he just couldn't take it. He made himself lie still, counted to one thousand over and over.

He heard Morgan come up and brush his teeth and felt him carefully slide into the bed next to him, though there wasn't the slightest bit of need to be careful. Reid was still maddeningly wide awake. If anything it felt like his body was producing _adrenaline_. He clenched and relaxed every muscle one by one, tried every technique he could think of, but nothing helped. He stayed awake so long that he heard Hotch and Rossi and JJ get back to catch a few hours of sleep, to sharpen their minds for tomorrow.

Panic reared up inside him and he couldn't stay still anymore. He sat up and clutched his head and rocked back and forth, crying silently, fighting the urge to scream. If he hadn't been hundreds of miles away and cut off from transport by the snow, he would have gone straight to his dealer and begged him for anything he had, whatever the cost. He knew that was stupid when he only had a few more days of the withdrawal period to go, but he didn't care. Right now he would give anything, do literally _anything_ to be able to sleep.

His thoughts felt like a hive of bees, uncontrollable and random and senseless, stinging and stinging and refusing to shut up. He started desperately trying to think of a way out.

He just wanted it to end, just wanted it to stop.

He stifled a sob to avoid waking Morgan, got out of bed, and left.

...

***creeps out nervously from behind tree* **

**Hello. ****Yes, it was a hallucination. S**orry about the cliffhanger of doom. '^^ **I hope this was a satisfying resolution. Things will get even worse for poor Reid before they get better I'm afraid. I don't have time to do comments this week but as always the feedback means an awful lot to me :) thank you x **


	19. Chapter 19

**Oh I just remembered I meant to start posting the music I listened to for each chapter, but I kept forgetting! Sorry. Anyway, the song I would say fit the mood of this chapter the best was ****Under Your Spell by Desire, but while writing I also listened to:**

**Giving Me A Chance ~ Gotye**

**Everlong (Acoustic Version) ~ Foo Fighters**

**And it works both ways, I'd love to hear if any of you have a song you think fits any part of their story, or them as a couple in general. :) **

**Anyway, enjoy! x**

Morgan drifted into consciousness at around 1am with a general feeling of unease, which grew into a very specific feeling of unease when he opened his eyes to see that Reid wasn't in the bed anymore.

He got up and checked the bathroom and looked downstairs but he still couldn't find Reid, and he was on the verge of panicking when he happened to glance out the window.

"Oh…sweet jesus." He muttered to himself, shoving his feet into his boots with mixed feelings of relief and dread.

He put his jacket on and walked out the front door, which Reid had left unlocked. The night was incredibly dark and silent, apart from the faint yellow strip of light shining out across the snow from the half closed front door, and the soft crunch and squeak of snow flattening under Morgan's feet as he made his way over to where his friend lay on his back in the snow in his pyjamas, knees bent slightly with his hands resting on his stomach.

"Hey there." Morgan said, standing over him and tilting his head in a bemused fashion.

Reid half-opened his eyes. There were snowflakes, in his hair, in his eyelashes. His face had an expression of calm apathy and resignation.

"Aren't you cold?" Morgan asked finally, beginning with the obvious question, since he had no idea what was going on.

"Not really." Reid closed his eyes. "It's nice…it kind of…slows down my thoughts. Stops them colliding into each other."

"Oh..." Morgan said.

There was a pause.

"…d'you think maybe you should come inside now?" he suggested. "You shouldn't be lying out here on your own in the dark while there's a serial killer running around. And you'll get frostbite if you're not careful."

"I am being careful." Reid said in a strange washed out tone of voice.

"Right. Well that's okay then." Morgan said sarcastically. "Reid, help me out here, are you high or what?"

"Like a diamond."

"…I don't know what that means."

Reid chuckled softly. "I haven't taken anything, don't worry. It's a song. About stars. You know. Up above the world so high. Like a diamond in the sky." He opened his eyes. "I've never been anywhere I could see the stars like this. I don't want to go inside yet."

"Okay. Okay kid you don't have to." Morgan said with a kind smile, though he hadn't understood a word of what he'd just said. He sat down and then lay down in the snow next to Reid, so their bodies made two sides of a shallow isosceles triangle, with their heads close together. Looking up, the sky was huge and black and imposing, so that the moon itself shrank back nervously, a tiny fingernail of ghostly white. It was cold lying in the snow, but it wasn't as cold as he expected. It reminded him of being a kid back in Chicago in the winter, making snow angels with his friends in the park.

He wondered if anybody had ever made snow angels with Reid.

"Gimme your hands." he said, turning onto his side and shifting closer to face Reid. Reid held out his hands without looking away from the sky. Morgan took his hands and warmed them between his own, breathing on them and sliding them inside the neck of his own shirt to warm them up. They were cold but not ice cold yet. It looked like he hadn't been out here long enough for it to become dangerous.

Tears started falling from the corners of Reid's eyes. Morgan wanted to ask why, but he listened to his instincts and just looked on anxiously, waiting for him to speak.

"I didn't even cry when my father left." Reid said, wiping the tears away and smiling.

Morgan smiled too.

"The kids called me Robot Boy for a while in elementary school." Reid continued. "Because I was introverted and quiet, and I always knew the answers to the teacher's questions. And 'cause when they hit me I always told them it didn't hurt. It did though. I only said it didn't 'cause hiding the pain made me feel like I had power over them."

More tears welled up in Reid's eyes. Morgan propped himself up on his elbow looking down at him.

"But the nickname worked too well at dehumanising me. Even the teachers started seeing me as this wind-up mechanical child they could leave to do his work by himself. Since I got almost no positive reinforcement at home, I worked really hard for their approval, but once they heard about the eidetic memory diagnosis they didn't think I needed to be told I was clever anymore. And the kids were awful to me, so needlessly, constantly…and none of the adults did anything to stop them."

"What made you think about all this now?" Morgan asked softly.

"I don't remember." Reid frowned. "But I'm not…I'm not like that nickname at all. I'm not cold or heartless. I never wanted to be different. I never looked down on people with normal IQs. I _envied_ them. I hated feeling like the only thing I was valued for was my brain. And if anything I…feel things… far more intensely than most people. I mean, have _you_ ever cried about stars?"

_Not stars, no. _Morgan thought, feeling himself start to get choked up.

He told himself to get a grip, and laughed so Reid couldn't see how much this was breaking his heart.

He squeezed Reid's hand gently and shook his head. "Nope. I don't really see what's sad about them."

Reid turned his head and looked straight at him for the first time. "Did you know that some of the stars you can see are so far away that by the time their light reaches us they're already starting to die? I think about that and I can't help feeling sad, I mean…they give out light their whole lonely lives just so that some faraway civilisation which doesn't even exist yet can look at them and think that they're beautiful, and maybe even make a wish on them or something. But eventually everybody stops looking up, because they're only stars after all. They're giving us this incredible gift, this glimpse into the birth of our universe and everybody's just _missing_ it. It's like how Van Gogh worked out ways of using colour like nobody had imagined before, but he only sold one painting his entire life and died with no idea at all of how much his work would _give_ to people."

This wasn't like Reid's usual way of talking, like he was reading from a book stored in his mind. This speech was painfully heartfelt, and he sounded so desperate that Morgan should understand these things the stars made him feel.

"I guess stars are kind of sad." Morgan said softly, at last.

Reid nodded and then seemed to relax, as if getting this message across to Morgan had unburdened him in some way. He looked at the sky again but his expression was different now. It was just blank and empty.

"Reid? Talk to me fella. Tell me some more things about stars." He sat up and placed a hand on Reid's shoulder and looked into his eyes. There was no response.

It was like he was conscious, but he wasn't really there. "_Please_ Reid."

Morgan covered his mouth with his hand and choked back a sob. He stumbled to his feet and took his phone out of his jacket pocket. He walked away from Reid's earshot before calling Young's cell phone.

"What's going on? Is it the unsub?" Young whispered anxiously.

"No you're fine, but I really need you to come over right now." Morgan tried to keep the panic out of his voice.

"Arghh." Young complained. "Do you have any idea what time it is!?"

"There's something wrong with Reid."

Young immediately snapped into professional mode.

"I'll be right there."

Morgan put his phone away then walked back over to Reid and crouched down in the snow beside him, warming up each of his hands and feet and telling him it was going to be okay.

Five minutes or so later he heard the noise of a car engine approaching and tyres crunching on snow behind him. Engine cut out, doors opened and slammed shut.

"Morgan?" Young called out. Morgan turned around, Young and Prentiss were running up the path to the front of the cabin.

"I couldn't stop her coming. She overheard the call." Young said apologetically.

Morgan nodded. "He was talking. About…stars…and then he just…stopped talking and then he was gone and I didn't know what to do." He said.

Young crouched down beside Reid, shining a torch into his eyes.

"Does someone want to tell me what's going on?" Prentiss asked, confused. "And since when are you a doctor?"

"Please don't ask." Young said. "Reid? Reid can you hear me? Nod if you can."

For a moment Reid just stared blankly, but then his head moved a little.

"Good. Good man. We're going to get you some help. But first we need to get you inside, can you stand?"

Reid nodded again.

"Okay, we'll help you. On the count of three." He took hold of Reid's arm and nodded to Morgan to take the other.

"One, two, _three_."

They pulled Reid to his feet and lead him back inside. They sat him down on a kitchen chair. His hair and pyjamas were soaking wet.

It turned out Young was surprisingly good in a crisis. He sent Prentiss to get some dry clothes while he did some more cognitive function tests on Reid. Reid was able to perform basic activities like dressing himself and responding to yes/no questions so Young sent him into the downstairs bathroom to change out of the wet clothes.

"Catatonia is another symptom of schizophrenia isn't it?" Morgan said while they waited.

"_Another_ symptom?" Young raised an eyebrow. "What others has he had?"

"Uh…paranoia, depression, pretty much every type of hallucination there is…he didn't mention any of this to you?"

Young shook his head and shrugged. "All I gathered was that he wasn't sleeping very well."

"Oh _Reid_." Morgan closed his eyes. "He hasn't had more than an hour or two of sleep every night for over a week."

"Wow. That is quite definitely a case of not sleeping well." Young confirmed, filling a hot water bottle from the kettle. "His desire to lie in the snow could be due to temperature regulation problems caused by schizophrenia. But usually schizophenics fall into distinct categories, for example either paranoid or catatonic. A combination of those two symptoms is quite unlikely to be schizophrenia unless he has a rare undifferentiated version. Either way I wouldn't be too hasty with the antipsychotics if he's this sleep deprived. I think a short course of Temazepam should do the trick, or at least make him lucid."

Morgan nodded, relieved that Reid was finally going to get some help.

Reid came back into the kitchen in one of the White Star Resort complementary white fluffy bathrobes and Young handed him the hot water bottle. He sat back down in the chair while Young wrote out his prescription on the table. He stared into space, his snow-wet hair sticking to his head.

Desperate to find a way to be useful Morgan went and got a towel from the bathroom and started drying Reid's hair for him, rough and playfully at first as a kind of joke to check he wouldn't feel patronised or embarrassed or anything, then more gently. Reid gave a bemused, slightly self-conscious smile but he seemed to quite enjoy the attention, like a puppy that had just rolled in a puddle, and upon returning indoors was baffled but quite pleased to find itself getting rubbed down with a towel.

By the time Morgan had finished and took the towel away, Reid's hair had turned to ultimate fluff. Everyone in the kitchen proceeded to giggle at it, and then Prentiss came in with Reid's change of clothes and asked what was so funny and they just pointed and she started laughing as well, and the whole bizarre situation was suddenly easier to deal with.

Prentiss regained control of herself first, and then scolded Young and Morgan as if she hadn't been laughing just as hard. She went and got a comb to remedy the fluffy chaos Morgan had created.

Woken up by their laughter, Hotch opened the door to the kitchen, squinting in the bright light.

"What's going on? Prentiss? Why are you here?"

"It's a long story." said Young. "But basically we need to get young Dr Reid here some medication to help his insomnia before he totally loses his shit."

"Thank you for that professional diagnosis." Hotch said sarcastically.

"Am I missing something here?" Prentiss said. "I mean I knew you were a doctor…but I didn't realise you meant an _actual_ doctor."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Young looked at Hotch to explain.

"Prentiss, can you go upstairs and tell the others what's happening? I need to talk to Young in private. I promise to explain later." Hotch said. She looked surprised and a little irritated to be pushed out, but she didn't argue.

When she had left Morgan looked at the prescription Young had written.

"Okay, so this Temazepam will make him sleep, right? I think I saw a pharmacy in town. You wanna head out there now?"

"Now?" Young said, raising his eyebrows. "It's like 2am. They _probably_ won't be open."

"Yes, now. If they aren't open I'll just have to hammer on the door until they are." Morgan set his jaw determinedly. "Don't look at me like that Hotch. I'm not going to just sit around and watch him suffer until the morning."

Hotch sighed and gave a nod.

"Alright. We'll all go now."

Morgan breathed a sigh of relief.

Reid had sunk into an even deeper catatonic state now, so Hotch had to lead him into the bathroom and help him change into the grey hooded sweatshirt and loose sweatpants Prentiss had brought down for him. The clothes were actually Morgan's but he didn't say anything. The sight of Reid wearing them gave him butterflies in his stomach. He got Reid's coat from the wardrobe and helped him to thread his skinny arms into the sleeves, and zipped it up for him like he was a little kid.

Then Morgan sat in the back of the car with him throughout the two hour journey while Hotch drove them into town. As it turned out they were in luck. The pharmacy owner lived in a flat above the store, and although not exactly pleased to be woken up, she assured them that dealing with the occasional night time emergency was just part of the job for her, being the only pharmacy for miles around.

They bought the pills and a bottle of water and Reid swallowed them and they got back into the car after thanking the pharmacist.

They started to work pretty quickly. After ten minutes Reid's head kept nodding forward as he started to fall asleep, and then jerking back when he woke up again. Seeing an obvious solution to the problem, Morgan unbuckled both their seatbelts, turned around so he was sitting with his back to the door and one leg up on the seat, and then pulled the sleepy young man towards him so Reid's back was pressed against Morgan's chest, with his broad shoulder acting as a pillow. In this position Reid fell asleep almost instantly.

Hotch caught Morgan's eye in the rear view mirror and frowned.

"Come on Hotch, what the hell does it matter? He's unconscious." Morgan said guiltily.

_It's not inappropriate. I'm only doing it to make Reid comfortable._

_Well mostly to make Reid comfortable._

Hotch didn't reply.

It was such a relief to know that Reid was finally getting some proper sleep. Morgan could practically feel all the tension and sleep deprived frustration fading away with every passing minute. He closed his eyes and subtly rested his nose against the top of Reid's head so he could breathe in the familiar smell and tickle of his hair. He felt like a total creeper, but in the back of the car in the dark, with Reid passed out in his lap, he felt safe doing it.

He kissed the top of Reid's head. Reid stirred a little and turned his face towards the warmth in the crook of Morgan's neck, making a soft contented humming sound.

Tears pricked Morgan's eyes and he tilted his head back against the cold window.

It was like after the rape, knowing what it had been like to touch Reid and see him like that made it so much harder to accept that it could never happen. Now getting to hold him and look after him was just as agonising, knowing that if Reid wasn't ill, he'd never allow it.

_Stop it. _He told himself sternly._ If you must take advantage of your friend, you are at least not going to waste the experience by crying like a little girl. _

He kissed the top of Reid's head again and tucked a lock of his fringe, which had fallen loose, behind his ear carefully. But he couldn't leave it there. He started delicately running his fingers through the young man's hair stroking it back off his face, provoking more smiles and quiet sleepy humming noises.

_I could quite easily develop an addiction to playing with your hair. _Morgan smiled, then mentally shook himself. _God Edward Cullen, stop watching him sleep._

After that he dozed off himself until Hotch reached back and shook them both gently awake when they arrived at the cabin.

Reid opened his eyes a little with a groan and mumbled. "Dun wanna gddup yt."

Morgan laughed softly and smiled down at Reid, pouring all the love he possessed for him into that smile so that for a moment it was like they were the only two people in existence. Reid looked up at him with a curious expression, like he wasn't quite sure what that smile meant, but was happy to receive it all the same.

Then Morgan said softly, "It's okay pretty boy. We just need to take you upstairs so you can get your beauty sleep."

Reid nodded. He stood up and walked up to the bedroom like a zombie. Morgan followed behind him and sorted out the things he was too sleepy to manage, like removing shoes and pulling the covers over him. He wanted to kiss his forehead, but that was too risky now Reid was more aware of his surroundings. He did stroke that bit of fringe behind his ear again though before he left the room and went back downstairs.

Young gave a hushed cheer when Morgan re-entered the kitchen. They shared a relieved smile.

"Man, and I thought all this time he just didn't like me!" Young joked. "I'm sure we'll be BFFs when he wakes up."

Morgan smiled again half-heartedly.

Prentiss walked in, looking tired and annoyed.

"Hotch says I'm taking you back to the hotel now." She told Young.

Young saluted her. "As you wish ma'am." He winked at Morgan and they left.

"Thanks for your help." Morgan called after him.

Once they were gone and he was left on his own in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of water, the tears came back and he couldn't stop them this time. He pressed his fingers over his eyes and leaned against the fridge, taking deep breaths. It didn't work. This always happened to him when something bad happened. He could shut everything out at the time, just compartmentalise his emotions and deal with the problem at hand. But once things returned to normal he began to fall apart.

He choked back a sob, gasping breaths like the start of a panic attack.

The kitchen door opened and Hotch walked in, and he got a hold of himself sharply, but he knew Hotch had already seen. He started laughing at himself to try and make Hotch see that it wasn't a big deal, just pent-up tiredness and worry spilling out.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of." Hotch said, not fooled in the slightest.

"I know." Morgan said weakly. "It was just…he was just lying there and I was so scared. I just wanted to know…what it would feel like. To hold him. It was stupid, it was a mistake, and it's going to hurt for a long time, I know." He wrapped his arms around himself as if trying to keep himself from literally falling apart. "I won't let it happen again. I can't go through this again."

Hotch sighed and nodded. He gave Morgan's shoulder a squeeze and went back into the other room. A few seconds later a confused JJ wandered into the kitchen.

"Um…Hotch said he couldn't tell me why, but that there was somebody in the kitchen who needed a hug?"

Morgan blinked in surprise, and then laughed. "Oh. Well I guess that would be me. C'mere Sweetness." He held out his arms and she gave him a big hug.

"Unbelievable. Where exactly in my job description does it say 'happy to be used as a cuddleogram to compensate for my emotionally stunted boss's inability to show affection?'" she grumbled, pretending to be put out.

"You should demand a raise." Morgan smiled, releasing her.

"I should." She agreed, searching his eyes with her own in a concerned fashion that all women seemed to learn instinctively once they became mothers. She had this way of looking into your eyes now which made him uncomfortable, like she maybe knew more about him than she let on. As if their shared love for a certain skinny long-haired genius gave them a kind of unspoken understanding.

Before now he'd always seen her as a threat because of this connection, but now it was kind of a comfort.

"Thank you." He said, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude towards her.

She looked surprised. "You're welcome. Always happy to help."

"No," he smiled, "I mean…thank you, for being a friend to him." He laughed awkwardly. "I just…I don't know what I'm trying to say, but…thank you."

She smiled and nodded, and he knew she got what he meant.

"Dr Reid huh?" she laughed shaking her head.

"Dr Reid." He agreed with a wry smile.

...

**You're welcome my pretties. xD I believe it was Medeia456 who requested that Reid sleep well for once, preferably in Morgan's arms? Never let it be said I do not listen to my audience's needs. I hope you have forgiven me for the cliffhanger now Medeia xD**

**NatNazzy ~ *huuug* you always say the nicest things! I'm so glad you enjoyed the last couple of chapters, Young and Reid's talk and the innuendos and the angst. I'm really starting to enjoy the story again, as you can probably tell from how quickly I'm posting the chapters now xD **

**Undertaker Lau ~ thank you, your comment really meant a lot to me. It's a lovely feeling when other writers compliment my writing, and it really motivates me! :) I'm so glad you're enjoying the creepiness and that the innuendos made you laugh. I think that romance stories should have drama and angst to make it interesting, but they should always have times where they just laugh and do silly things together to keep the story anchored in reality. I don't find couples believable if they don't make each other laugh, even in the most difficult times. :) **

**People Person I'm Not ~ Wow, thank you so much! I seriously reacted like an overexcited child when I saw your review in my inbox, I love the long ones so much! Thank you for telling me each thing you enjoyed, it wa****s really lovely to read. And 'Hotch doesn't follow protocol, protocol follows Hotch' made me laugh xD very true.**

**marcallie ~ it was really nice to hear from you again! so glad you're still around! and yes, thank god Reid has his sexy guardian angel around to make sure he doesn't die like three times a day.**

**I wish I had time to reply to all of my reviewers, but there are just too many of you now! I want you to know that if I don't reply to you it's not that I'm not grateful, it's just that I don't really have anything to tell you except 'thanks'! So I'll say it here, thank you very much, I appreciate all of your comments and hope you continue to enjoy my story. xx**


	20. Chapter 20

Reid slept like a log until around 2pm the next day. When he woke up his mind felt clearer and sharper than it had in a long time. It surprised him to realise just how much sleep deprivation had slowed down his thoughts now that they were back to normal.

His head hurt like the devil and his mouth was dry, but apart from that he felt pretty normal. He sat up and swung his feet onto the pastel-pink carpeted floor. He realised with a small measure of alarm that he wasn't wearing pants, and that instead of his pyjama shirt he was wearing Morgan's grey hooded sweater. He saw the matching grey tracksuit bottoms over the back of a chair and put them on, and then wandered downstairs into the living room where the TV was on, showing a football game.

"Hey." Morgan looked up. "How're you feeling?"

"Nnng." Reid mumbled. His hair was mussed over his face but he couldn't be bothered to move it.

Morgan chuckled. "You look like you could use a coffee."

Reid's face brightened slightly and he nodded.

"Well too bad." Morgan grinned evilly. "Young says no more caffeine. It might make your brain go skewy again."

Reid groaned. "Can I at least have some water?"

"I think I can allow that." Morgan grinned and got to his feet. "Sit down, I'll get it."

Reid obeyed gladly.

A few minutes later Morgan came out of the kitchen with a glass of water. He gave it to Reid and sat down beside him. Reid nodded his thanks and drank the whole thing in one go. Morgan saw him rubbing his forehead and grimacing, and was concerned.

"You got a headache? Do you want me to get you some painkillers for that?" he asked.

Reid shook his head. "Uh no thanks, it's probably just dehydration since I've been out for so long. I know it's just aspirin but I don't want to take any painkillers unless I have to."

Morgan nodded. "Oh right."

Reid smiled awkwardly. "So um…what exactly happened last night? I sort of remember parts of it, but it's kind of blurry. For instance I'm not sure how I ended up wearing your clothes…"

Morgan chuckled dirtily "Well now, _there's _a story." He smirked.

Reid rolled his eyes, his cheeks reddening slightly. He still hadn't got used to these feelings he had about Morgan, and though he could push it to the back of his mind when they were talking, he still felt awkward.

"Well, around 1am I found you out in the snow in your pyjamas. Like literally you weren't even wearing shoes. I called Young and he came over, and Prentiss followed him. Prentiss went to get you some dry clothes but she must have picked up mine instead."

Reid nodded, his face expressionless.

"You were kind of talking but some of what you were saying was a little weird and didn't quite make sense."

"Weird how?" Reid raised his eyebrows and looked alarmed.

"Uhh…I dunno. Like you talked about when you were a kid and you felt like you were different to everybody else. You said the other kids gave you a hard time, called you Robot Boy, and they thought you didn't feel anything, but you were just hiding the pain."

"Oh." Reid said quietly. He started biting the sides of his fingers.

"Do you have any idea why that was on your mind last night?" Morgan asked gently.

Reid shook his head. He suddenly looked kind of far away.

Morgan touched his shoulder softly. "Reid."

Reid looked up at him. "Hmm?"

"Young said…sometimes schizophrenia messes with your temperature controls, and that could explain why you wanted to lie down in the snow." Morgan said hesitantly. "But I couldn't help thinking…I dunno. That maybe you were trying to…or hoping that it would…" he tailed off.

Reid frowned and looked down at his hands which were fidgeting in his lap. For a moment he didn't reply.

"There's no shame in it if you were." Morgan said gently. "You've been through a hell of a lot recently, it's perfectly understandable if…you know. You got overwhelmed by it all."

"I don't…" Reid looked confused. "I don't know. I just remember lying in bed so _tired_ and uncomfortable and I just…I knew I couldn't stand feeling like that for another day. It's impossible to describe…I was so desperate to sleep, but I couldn't and I felt like there was no way out."

His voice cracked slightly just talking about it.

"So I guess it's…possible, that I was trying to commit suicide. But I wasn't me at that time. I don't have any memory of what I did, so I can't say for sure." Reid shrugged uncomfortably.

A cold shudder went through Morgan's body.

"But you don't feel that way now." he confirmed anxiously.

"No!" Reid reassured him with a smile. "I don't want to die. The idea terrifies me."

Morgan gave a relieved smile.

"Good. Cause gorgeous as I am, this team wouldn't meet its prettiness quota without you in it as well."

Reid laughed and shook his head. There was a short silence.

"So uh…what exactly did Young give me? That was strong stuff."

"Temazepam. 10 milligrams."

Reid looked puzzled. "I asked Young and he said because of my history, benzodiazepines were off limits except for emergencies."

Morgan looked at him incredulously.

"What the hell did you think he meant by 'emergency'?" He asked, laughing.

Reid raised his eyebrows and looked sheepish.

"Oh…" he said.

"Exactly." Morgan ruffled his hair. He then stood up and headed for the kitchen. "Now come on kiddo, you've been asleep for like 12 hours, we need to feed you!" He called behind him.

"Agreed." Reid laughed and followed him through to the kitchen.

After they'd munched their way through about four bacon sandwiches each, the conversation turned back to the case.

"Has Hotch told you how it's all going?" Reid asked, sliding their plates and last night's pans and dishes into the sink and turning on the hot tap.

Morgan grimaced and shook his head. "Not good apparently. They found out that he definitely used an axe from the woodcutting station, and that he cleaned it in the water feature in the reception area, but the rest of the forensics are a little confusing."

"Confusing how?" Reid frowned, misjudging the pressure of his squeeze and squirting far too much dish soap into the sink, releasing a couple of small bubbles into the air.

Morgan couldn't stop a chuckle from escaping and Reid responded with a good-humoured pout.

"Don't laugh at me. The design of this bottle is totally flawed."

"You don't cook much for yourself do you?" Morgan guessed with a smile. "What, do you live on microwave meals and takeaways?"

Reid smiled and started washing a greasy pan. "Pretty much. It's kept me alive for this long, so…"

"I'm not judging." Morgan laughed. "But uh…you should wash the pans last, otherwise the plates get greasy. Fill them with water and leave them on the side to soak." He suggested.

"Oh right." Reid took the pan back out. "I never realised this required so much forward planning." He started washing a bowl. "I guess…it would have been nice to learn, but there never seemed to be much point when there was only me to cook for. Maybe my mom could have taught me before I went to college like everybody else, except I was sixteen when I went to college and she wasn't well enough I guess."

Morgan watched his friend's back, thinking about how different Reid's life had been to his. Sure he'd been screwed up to hell by Carl Buford, but he'd always had a mom to come home to and though he fought like cat and dog with both his sisters, he knew they always had his back. If he'd been born into Reid's life, he didn't know how he would have made it to adulthood without hating the world.

He stood up, picked up a dish towel and took the clean bowl from Reid. Reid smiled at him and they stood in companionable silence, looking out at the falling snow.

"Oh, you were saying, about the forensics?" Reid remembered suddenly.

"Right. They found out what was written on the wall. Turns out it was in Ukrainian."

Reid looked surprised. "But we ruled out Kurkov. Why would he write a message in their blood if he didn't kill them?"

Morgan shrugged. "I have no idea. His wife is Ukrainian too though."

"That makes no sense. We analysed the DNA from the glass he drank from with the first female victim, that was male DNA. And the person I bumped into was a man. What did the message say?"

"Roughly translated it meant 'she'll be mine for eternity'." Morgan said.

Reid raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Poetic."

"But not very helpful."

"It's interesting that the message doesn't seem to be for the woman he's describing."

"Who do you think it was meant for? The police?" Morgan asked.

"Well he has taunted us before."

Morgan nodded. Reid pulled the plug and rinsed his hands before drying them on a dish towel. He took the dry dishes from the draining board and put them away.

"It looks like we're going to have to use Prentiss and Young after all." Reid said grimly.

"They'll be fine. Prentiss knows what she's doing and Young…well Young isn't totally useless." Morgan smiled to cover up his own worry.

"I know, but something just doesn't feel right about all this. He's managed to get to six people and take them without anyone seeing a thing, he paraded his victims for everyone to see at the ball and then he walks casually into a high security event, picks up an axe and slaughters four more people, again without being seen. He's one of the slipperiest unsubs we've ever encountered. We're putting Young and Prentiss in real danger here."

"You need to trust that they know what they're doing. This bastard won't get away again, we'll make sure of that." Morgan said determinedly.

"Well then…they're going to need _all_ the help they can get." Reid said meaningfully.

"…"

Reid folded his arms.

Morgan sighed. "I'll call Hotch."

...

Having heard from Morgan that Reid was better, Hotch agreed to allow them back on the case. They drove up to the hotel and were met by officer Jarvis who took them to a meeting room where Hotch, JJ, and Rossi were looking through stacks of files on the overly large black mirrored table. All three looked tired and dishevelled, and stacks of empty coffee cups littered the table.

Hotch looked up and greeted them. "Hey. Good to see you're feeling better." He told Reid.

"Thanks." Reid nodded.

"So where we at right now?" Morgan asked.

"We're trying to figure out how to arrange it so that Prentiss and Young are the most available couple to the unsub, without making it too obvious."

"We asked the police to make a point of removing all presence from around the lake, so the unsub has his dumping ground back." JJ said. "Apart from that we're finding it hard to think of a way to do this." She sighed.

"How can we justify putting the guests back out in their cabins when there's a killer out there?" Morgan asked.

"By telling them we have him in custody." Reid said suddenly. "We just fake an arrest and say the guests are safe to go back to their cabins. An unsub like this will definitely be following the investigation. Seeing the police get it wrong will hopefully make him over-confident and more likely to make a mistake."

"We can't lie to the public. Not when we can't guarantee this psycho won't go after somebody else like he did to that family." JJ shook her head.

"What choice do we have?" Morgan snapped. "If we don't trap the bastard he's going to get away, and who knows how many more people are gonna die?"

"The profile indicates that Prentiss and Young will be his next targets. They match his victimology exactly." Reid told her. She didn't look very reassured.

They argued around in circles for hours, came up with new plans and then tore them to shreds. They went over the profile with a fine-tooth comb and worked out every single detail about the man's relationships and psychological profile. They went through the risks and benefits of every possible action one thousand times. The atmosphere was different to normal, more strained. Everyone was exhausted and aspects of this case were so personal that being objective was damn near impossible when their friends could be in danger.

Eventually they came to the conclusion that the fake arrest plan was the only way they could possibly catch him, and time was running out. They made some calls and Hotch gave them their orders and then they split up.

...

Morgan was heading to the exit when he bumped into John Wotton, the teacher he and Reid had spoken to at the Gathering the night before.

"Hey." He said. The older man turned around and gave him a charming smile. He was breathing slightly heavily like he'd been in a hurry and his hair was sticking up a little at the back like he'd been running his fingers through it.

"Hi there! If you're not too busy could you help me with something?" Wotton asked, holding his gaze for several seconds longer than your average heterosexual man generally felt comfortable with.

"Sure. What do you need?" Morgan smiled back at him.

_Man…if I'd had teachers like that when I was a kid, I'd probably be a brain surgeon by now. _He thought to himself.

"I just wondered if you'd seen the boy you saw me with yesterday, Winston?" he sounded a little harassed.

"Sorry, I haven't. Has he been gone for long?" Morgan really was sorry. For some reason he really wanted to help.

"I asked him to meet with me an hour ago. He's probably tucked up in a corner somewhere listening to his iPod and drawing. That boy…I've taught some difficult kids in my time but that one…he just doesn't care about anyone except himself! He lies about me and he steals from me, he fights with all the other kids and I just don't know how to get through to him!" he said exasperatedly.

"Oh." Morgan said, a little taken aback. The boy had seemed sulky and bad tempered but not exactly rebellious. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Oh…don't worry. It's just frustrating as a teacher to see a kid throw away their potential. He's already on so many warnings, I had to pull a lot of strings to even get the school to allow him on this trip, he's such a walking disaster that no teacher wants to be responsible for him. Well…except for this one idiot I guess." He gave a wry smile.

"He's very lucky to have you." Morgan said warmly.

Suddenly the janitor's closet to their left snorted. Wotton's head snapped towards the noise.

"Alright Winston, game's up." He shouted.

There was a heavy sigh and then the kid poked his head round the door.

"Can I help you?" he asked snippily.

"Yes you can, by stopping all this messing around." The teacher said through gritted teeth. "That thing you promised to do won't do itself now will it?"

"Maybe it _should_ go do itself." The kid muttered.

"That's enough!" Wotton snapped. "You know the rules."

He turned to Morgan. "Thanks for your help. Fancy meeting for a drink later on? I could use some adult company." He smiled in a kind of flirty way.

Morgan was a little caught off guard. This invitation put him in an awkward position. If his gaydar was functioning properly and he was being hit on then there was no way he could accept, it would be unprofessional. But if he was wrong and the guy was just being friendly then…well it might be kind of nice to hang out with someone outside the team for a night.

"Oh…uh…well yeah that would be great, but I'm not sure I can make it tonight 'cause of work. Tomorrow would probably be okay though." He said finally, wondering why Winston was glaring at the floor from behind his black fringe. He was evidently not a happy kid.

"Oh we're leaving tomorrow morning." He said disappointedly. "Well I'll be at the Masked Ball tonight with the other teachers from around seven." He smiled and lowered his voice so Winston wouldn't hear him. "Or my room number is 203 if you'd prefer a more _intimate_ setting."

Yup definitely being hit on. Morgan knew he should politely turn him down but somehow despite _thinking_ 'no thanks' what he actually said was;

"Well…how could I refuse an offer like that?"

The teacher gave him a smirk. "See you later then. If your work allows it."

Morgan nodded, his heart thumping in his chest uneasily. He didn't know if he was ready to go back to that way of life yet. It hadn't exactly been a conscious decision. But…it _had_ been a long time and there was just something about Wotton which he found attractive. Maybe no strings attached was the best way for him to get back on the horse. So to speak.

He needed some uncomplicated fun after the shit he'd been through recently. And Wotton was leaving the morning after so it would definitely be uncomplicated.

And he didn't have to decide right now whether he would actually turn up or not.

...

It was around nine pm, Prentiss and Young were at the Winter Wonderland Masked Ball and Prentiss had already found out the hard way that Young was a terrible dancer. Her toes suffered from this especially, and they were already having a tough time already, being wedged into a pair of bright red high heels which Hotch had ordered for her along with the dress, which seemed specifically designed to be the most uncomfortable things on the planet for anyone with a normal number of toes. They were very sexy though, as was the dress. She hadn't had an opportunity to wear clothes like this in a long time.

"OW _FUCK_, ADAM," she yelled over the music. "Adam I really need to sit down!"

Young nodded and helped her hobble over to their linen table-clothed table near the back of the function room, which was now free of beds after the very publicised 'arrest' of the hotel manager in connection to the murders. There hadn't been much time to decorate but the hotel staff had done themselves proud. All the guests were heartily celebrating the serial killer's incarceration in style, with many a cheerful toast.

Prentiss collapsed into a chair and slid the shoes off to discover that she had blisters on her heels and baby toes.

"Why do women spend a fortune on shoes that don't even function properly as shoes? The least I expect from a shoe is to be able to walk in them." Young tutted.

She glared at him through her black sequinned cat shaped eye mask. "Hotch ordered them, not me. I think he got my size wrong though, these aren't even that high and my own highest stilettos haven't given me this much pain."

She rubbed her feet and winced.

"Do you want to leave?" Young asked.

She shook her head. "We can't. He doesn't attack them in their homes so it's got to be here. I'll be alright."

Young got down on one knee and began to massage her feet. "Never fear Princess Prentiss, your Prince Charming will heal you with his loving touch." He grinned up at her.

"Stop that you idiot." She snapped somewhat half-heartedly, since it actually did help quite a lot.

"Can't. It's my duty as your loving husband, remember?" Young chuckled, switching feet. "Plus it's partly my fault for treading on you so much."

"I half thought you were doing it on purpose. I didn't realise it was possible for somebody to dance that badly. It was like you couldn't even hear the rhythm." She laughed.

Young sighed. "Yeah…my rhythm isn't very good. Neither is my balance. I used to be able to…" he cut himself off and shook his head. "I'm sorry." He said softly.

She was surprised that he didn't make a defensive joke or a sarcastic remark.

"Can you dance barefoot? Or would you prefer to stay sitting?" Young asked.

She shook her head. "I can't stay barefoot when we might be put in a situation where we have to run for our lives. But running in these would be worse. I think I'll go back to the cabin and get another pair."

"I'll come with you." Young said, sounding unenthusiastic about venturing outside into the cold dark night.

"No, you stay. It's not far and I have my gun strapped to my leg, so I'll be fine. If you came with me I'd have to protect you too." Prentiss assured him. "Go and stay with Hotch and the others so you don't get yourself kidnapped or anything."

He sighed. "I'm starting to feel like I'm the princess in this relationship."

She laughed and stood up. "Be quiet and hold my purse until I get back sweetheart."

"You know, some women in this situation would deliberately try to make me feel emasculated. I'm so glad that isn't an issue between us." Young said sarcastically, holding her red and black polka dotted purse between finger and thumb at arm's length, like it was the tail of a dead fish.

She smiled at that before she could stop herself, and he smiled back, because she was pretty when she wasn't yelling at him.

Prentiss realised as she walked out of the door that she had started to enjoy fighting with Young. Just a tiny bit mind. He still wasn't boyfriend material at all though. Morgan was wrong about that.

Prentiss buttoned her black furry-hooded coat, to keep out the biting wind. She hid her gun in her pocket, keeping her hand on it the whole time. She was glad of the strong moonlight and outdoor lamps to see by. She would never admit it to Young, but she was a little freaked out now she was out here alone. She wished she had asked one of the team to accompany her, but part of her had wanted to show off to Young. It was a nice feeling, having someone admiring you, and it was one that as a woman, she often didn't get from men since mostly they were so reluctant to be overshadowed by a woman.

She was around half way when she heard a rustle and saw a shadow move through a gap in the trees next to the path. She stopped dead. She strained her ears and searched the trees for movement with her eyes, heart pounding.

Another rustle.

She took the gun out slowly and flipped the safety off.

The shadow moved closer. And…


	21. Chapter 21

Morgan stood patiently with the rest of the team, watching and waiting, drinking his way through a crappy non-alcoholic beer just for something to do.

"Come on you motherfucker." He muttered. "Come out and play."

His eyes kept being drawn to the table of ten rowdy students who were cheerfully sneaking vodka behind the female teacher's back. They were underage by a long way but arresting them would only create chaos and a distraction for the unsub to take advantage of.

He couldn't help noticing that neither Mr Wotton or Winston had made any appearance yet tonight, and it worried him. If Winston had wandered off again and the teacher had gone looking for him then that was two people vulnerable to attack.

He leaned over and explained the situation to Hotch in a low voice.

"I'm gonna go ask the kids if they know where they are." he said.

Hotch nodded distractedly, his gaze focused like a hawk on Prentiss and Young.

Morgan walked over to the table and two girls scrambled to hide their hip flasks in their bags, giggling at each other.

"Good evening officer." A pretty Hispanic girl with an oversized orange flower in her long dark hair, said flirtily before turning to her friend and giggling some more, obviously pretty inebriated already. The two boys either side of them who had obviously been steadily chatting them up throughout the evening (and whom he guessed had probably brought the alcohol in order to win their favour) looked extremely put out by his presence.

"Evening ladies." He said with a charming smile. "But it's Agent, not officer."

"Can I help you Agent?" A different boy from across the table said, also batting his eyelids and pretending to swoon. The whole table laughed. Morgan smiled at him good naturedly. This boy had floppy blonde hair parted at the side and his face had the features of an angelic choir boy. He didn't dress outrageously but his clothes were conspicuously neat and far more trendy than most of the boys around the table.

"Give it a rest Stephen!" A girl with a short blonde bob called out. "He's blatantly not on your team."

There was more laughter and Steven laughed too, but it seemed forced.

Morgan felt his skin prickle with irritation at the assumption. Any other circumstances he'd have loved to set them straight, but it wouldn't be professional to do it now. He felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. He hadn't had the guts to come out even to close friends until he got to college but he'd had all too many opportunities to observe his classmates' attitudes to homosexuality so he could empathize with Stephen pretty well.

"Any of you seen Winston Cottonwick or Mr Wotton at all tonight?" He asked Stephen, ignoring the blonde girl. He was slightly taken aback when all the students burst into uproarious laughter and wolf whistles.

Stephen looked uneasy and yelled over the noise, "No they haven't been down yet."

"Can you show me where their rooms are?" Morgan asked him.

Stephen nodded and tried to get out past his friends' chairs, stumbling over bags and chair legs. It was then Morgan realised he was possibly the drunkest of the group. He reached out for the boy's arm and steadied him.

"How much have you had?" he asked. Stephen looked scared.

"I don't know, sorry…please don't tell Miss." He pleaded.

Morgan nodded and sighed. He told the teacher he needed to borrow Stephen and then they headed out of the function room into the elevator.

Stephen slumped against the side.

"Wow, I'm alone in an elevator with a hunky FBI agent." He sniggered semi-sarcastically. "My fantasies are coming true. Never expected that when I agreed to go on this stupid trip."

Morgan chuckled.

"Seriously…you're like a black James Bond, anybody ever told you that?" he slurred.

"Actually yes. My friend Penelope said that once." Morgan replied with a smile.

Stephen smiled and nodded sadly, obviously reading between the lines and assuming Garcia was a girlfriend.

"So d'you wanna tell me what the joke was back there?" Morgan asked to change the subject.

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Ugh it's just a stupid inside joke they have that they think Winston and Mr Wotton are…you know. Getting it on. They even came up with a chant for it; 'Cottonwick, Cottonwick, we know you're sucking Wotton's dick.'" He made a face. "Assholes. Still, Winston did sort of bring it on himself. He had a massive crush on the guy a while ago and started telling people they were sleeping together. He broke up with me because of it, though he was obviously just lying to get rid of me."

A feeling of unease settled in Morgan's stomach. The elevator doors opened on the second floor and they stepped out.

"Has Winston mentioned it at all recently?" Morgan asked.

"Mentioned what?" Stephen asked, confused.

"That he was sleeping with Mr Wotton? Did he bring it up recently or act strange in any way?"

"I don't think so. We don't really talk much anymore. He doesn't talk to anyone much." Stephen said, looking slightly guilty. "I never really liked him much to begin with but there weren't a lot of options for guys like us where we come from y'know? He's such an attention seeker, it gets really old after a while. We always have to share a room on school trips though. They stick the gay kids together cos they're not allowed to pair boys with girls but the boys are all scared we'll rape them or something while they sleep. Here it is." He stuck his key card into the slot and opened the door. He turned on the light.

"Woah!" Stephen said, looking round the empty room in shock. The room looked like it had been ransacked. Clothes and other possessions were strewn across the floor, a wardrobe had been upturned and a chair had been used to smash a hole through the back of it. The bathroom mirror looked like it had been smashed with a fist as there were drops of blood in the sink and the metal waste bin had been thrown through the walls of the glass shower so there was broken glass everywhere.

Morgan drew his gun.

"Follow me." He told the kid and walked quickly down the corridor.

"Right…" Stephen stammered from behind him. "Uh Mr Wotton is in room-"

"203." Morgan said.

"Yeah…how did you know?" Stephen asked.

Morgan didn't answer.

After Prentiss left, Young wandered over to where Hotch, Rossi, JJ and Reid were gathered, dressed in formal wear with wires on their ears, their eyes scanning the room for suspicious activity.

They were meant to be blending in but couldn't look more official if they tried and stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the guests, who were chattering in groups from behind their brightly coloured eye masks. The evening had been slow to start but gradually as the alcohol flowed the guests started to relax. It helped that there had been a very public arrest earlier on that day, of one Mr Orwell, the creepy hotel manager. To give the guy credit he had made up for his earlier negligence by volunteering to be the decoy arrest, and make the unsub think it was safe to return to his original killing pattern. Convinced that the danger had passed, the guests were wholeheartedly throwing themselves into celebrating their survival.

Hotch frowned as he saw Young approach.

"Where's Emily?" Hotch asked.

"Uh…well the shoes you got her were killing her feet so she left to change them." Young said, uneasy at Hotch's fierce expression.

"You mean you let her-" Hotch stopped midsentence. "Wait…what are you talking about? What shoes?"

"The outfit, the red dress and the shoes…they came in a big white box last night. She said they were from you! Because all the women who went missing…were wearing red." he stammered.

Young felt his guts slither to the floor as his mind connected the dots from Hotch's blank expression.

"_Shit!" _Young cursed and bolted to the exit, hoping to catch up to her.

"Mr Prentiss!" Hotch yelled, and Young stopped dead outside the front entrance, at the bottom of the stone steps, and the team ran past him with their weapons drawn. "You wait here. We'll get her."

Young watched them disappear into the dark and smacked his forehead repeatedly.

"Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_" he muttered angrily, praying with every ounce of his concentration that they wouldn't be too late.

And failing to see the masked man strolling down the steps behind him with an empty wine bottle in his grasp.

Prentiss gasped and her hand flew to the gun under her dress for a moment, then she relaxed.

It was a deer. Just a curious deer which sniffed the air and then galloped away when the beam of her torch hit it.

She sighed and laughed softly in relief. She still sped up though as she hobbled on her way to the cabin.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed putting on a pair of red flats when Rossi, Hotch, JJ and Reid came crashing into the cabin with their guns drawn. She looked up, startled.

"What's going on?" she demanded as they began checking rooms.

"Are you okay?" Hotch asked urgently.

"Uh yes…I'm sorry I left the party…but I told Adam to tell you where I was…" she said, looking embarrassed. "I thought it would be alright…I mean I had my gun."

"I specifically told you not to leave our sight!" Hotch said.

"Well sorry, but if you'd have gotten my size right I wouldn't be half crippled right now!" she snapped, fed up and in pain.

"I didn't get you those shoes! Or the dress!" Hotch said.

"What? Then who…?" It took a moment to sink in. She made a disgusted face. "Oh…_God_ that's creepy."

She stood up and opened the wardrobe, bending down to pick up a white cardboard box.

"It came in this." she passed it to Hotch. "There's a note taped to the inside."

"_Hope you have a magical evening. Love A." _Hotch read out. "You thought this was from me?"

Everyone gave her a funny look.

"I thought he was being sarcastic." She shrugged.

Reid took the note. "The unsub probably meant for you to think it was from Young...uh, Adam."

"We should have seen this. It was too much of a coincidence that they were all wearing red for the party." Hotch said, evidently furious with himself.

"But if he did this to all the women…how come their husbands didn't tell them the gifts weren't from them?" Prentiss asked.

"They probably did, and the women would have just assumed their husbands were being modest or shy about it." JJ said. "And honestly if it made their wives…grateful, what man would look too hard at where it came from?" she smiled.

"So now we know this is extremely important for his fantasy." Hotch said. "He's going to great lengths to perfectly re-enact a specific event in his life."

"How the hell did he get my measurements?" Prentiss said, sounding a little irritated.

"They were given to the hotel in advance to make sure you both got the right size ski suits and equipment." Hotch explained.

"Oh were they!?" she folded her arms. "And no one thought it would be polite to ask me?"

Hotch looked uncomfortable. "We were busy, Garcia found them for us."

"Garcia!" Reid said suddenly, getting out his phone and dialling her number. "Garcia?"

"Well hey there babycakes, what're you wearing?" she asked in a husky voice that Reid knew was designed to unnerve him as much as possible.

"Garcia I'm sending you a picture of a dress that was sent by the unsub." He took the picture without warning Prentiss, and she looked annoyed. "Now am I right in thinking this is a unique design, specifically tailored?"

"Ha! Nice expression there Prentiss." Garcia teased. "But very good my little genius, that is indeed no high street brand. I'll check all the surrounding dressmakers, see if any of them have had four orders of red dresses."

"Thanks." He said. "Bye."

"Do you think the shoes being impossible to walk in was deliberate?" Prentiss asked.

"Yeah, seems likely." Reid nodded absentmindedly. "He needed to separate the husbands from their wives somehow."

"So why didn't he attack me while I was vulnerable?" she frowned.

There was a horrified silence as they all realised their fatal mistake.

"Oh God, because he takes the husbands first!" JJ said.

"Where's Adam?" Prentiss asked fearfully. "Please God, tell me you didn't leave him alone."

"I'll call him." Reid said and held his phone to his ear. "No answer," he said after a while.

Prentiss shut her eyes in dismay. "He had his phone in his pocket. If he's not answering then that means the unsub must already have him." She said.

"Ok, Prentiss, leave him a message saying you felt ill and decided to stay at the cabin. Stay here, lock the doors. Reid and Rossi you're with me, JJ you go to the police and help them monitor the CCTV of the cabin." Hotch commanded.

"Wait you're going to leave me here alone?" Prentiss asked.

"We have to. If he has Young then he'll soon be back for you. That's our only chance to catch him before he kills Young." Hotch explained. "We'll be back once we confirm that he isn't at the hotel. It will take some time for the unsub to take him near to the lake anyway, so we should have time to get back. The police and JJ will be monitoring the outside of the house, he won't get near you without us knowing about it I promise."

She nodded. "Okay. Just…please, we have to find him. He wasn't even supposed to be here."

"We will." Hotch assured her with grim determination.

Morgan knocked on the door of room 203.

"John Wotton? Sir are you in there?"

There was no reply. He banged harder on the door.

"If you don't open this door I'll have to break it down." He said.

Still no reply.

"Stand back kid." He told Stephen.

He stepped back a few paces, then took a running kick at the door, breaking the lock entirely.

The door swung open and Morgan stepped inside with his gun drawn, Stephen following behind him.

He knew straight away from the stench of the place what he would find when they reached the bedroom, but that didn't make it any easier. He told Stephen to stay behind in the living room to spare him the traumatic memories.

John Wotton's naked, bloodied corpse was sprawled on the bed. He'd been stabbed repeatedly, his torso opened up from sternum to abdomen. His intestines had been violently ruptured, which added to the smell. Morgan averted his eyes uncomfortably as Stephen vomited noisily on the carpet behind him. Apparently doing what he was told wasn't Stephen's forte.

Morgan rubbed the boy's back while he got it all up, though he knew nothing he could do would make this moment any less horrific. He helped Stephen stumble out of the apartment and sat him down on the floor in the corridor with his head between his knees. Then he called Hotch to tell him that the unsub had attacked again.

Hotch sounded confused but said that the team were on their way up and that he would alert the police and on-site medics. Morgan went back into the room. The sight was even worse the second time.

It felt really disrespectful to look at the guy naked, even in death, when they might have been lovers if the night had gone differently. He followed procedures as clinically as he could, checked pulse, checked blood spatter, looked around for murder weapon. His eyes fell on a bloody handprint on the white bathroom door, as if someone had fallen against it.

Cautiously he pushed the bathroom door open. Winston was sitting against the wall with his knees against his chest, arms wrapped round himself, face hidden. He was crying like Morgan had never heard anyone cry before, so lost in misery he couldn't move or think.

_He must have really had it bad for the guy. _Morgan thought sympathetically.

He knelt down beside him. "Hey Winston, remember me? I talked to your teacher a couple of times. He was a good guy, I'm sorry."

The kid sobbed harder.

"I can't imagine what you're going through but I need you to help us catch the guy who did this. Did you see him? Did you see where he went?"

There was no reply. Morgan put a gentle hand on the boy's neck. Winston flinched like he'd been burnt, screamed, _"Don't touch me!" _and lashed out with his left arm.

Morgan caught his wrist and saw that his hands were both covered in blood, a long knife shard of glass tucked in the unprotected palm of his right hand, which was torn up pretty badly, the ligaments in tatters.

Then Morgan realised he _had_ heard somebody cry like that before. Like he was trapped in some hell he couldn't understand, and he couldn't tell anyone what was happening to him because he was too ashamed, because he thought it was his own fault, because he had been slowly trained to believe he was weak and powerless, and all alone.

Like he'd cried every night after Buford abused him.

There was nothing he could really do for him now. He'd realised way too late what Winston had been trying to tell everybody when he was acting up. He'd overlooked him, failed to protect him from this horror, just like every other adult in his life had failed him.

He held onto him tightly until the paramedics showed up, telling him that it was okay, that it wasn't his fault, that he'd get some help.

He stayed while the paramedics gave him a physical exam, saw the many hand shaped bruises on his upper arms and back and throat, where he'd been held down. The male paramedic gestured for him to leave while he got the zombied teenager into the shower to wash the blood off him and check for the inevitable signs of sexual assault. Morgan bagged up the boy's clothes for evidence and then waited with the team, who had been examining the body.

Eventually they took him away, dressed in grey scrubs with a shock blanket draped around him, a police escort either side to shield him from the sight of the body. Stephen was led out along with him to go to the medical centre. He also had a blanket and was still very ill and shaking from the shock, an oxygen mask held to his mouth by another medic, since apparently he was severely asthmatic and triggered by stress.

Morgan shook with suppressed rage and felt like screaming. He couldn't stop thinking about how twisted it was that he'd _liked_ the guy. He'd been _attracted_ to him, from the moment he'd seen him. And all along he'd been molesting God knows how many of the underage boys under his care.

"You couldn't have known." Reid said quietly from behind him. "You talked to Winston _once_, and he acted like any other teenage boy."

"You knew. You knew straight away that something was wrong about that bastard." Morgan clenched his fists. "I _liked_ him. I thought he seemed like a good guy."

"I didn't _know_. I had a _feeling_. If I'd known, then I sure as hell wouldn't have let this happen. My feelings about him weren't any more helpful to Winston than yours since I didn't do anything to investigate them. We couldn't have known." Reid wrapped his arms around himself, as if to convince himself of what he was saying.

"I hope he rots in hell." Morgan replied venomously, and walked out of the room.

Once they'd established that this attack wasn't related to their case they all headed back downstairs. Hotch explained the situation to Morgan rapidly, and told him what they'd discovered.

"We found broken glass and blood on the front steps where we last saw Young, and nobody has seen him since, so I think at this point it's safe to assume that the unsub was at the party all along, and ambushed him with a glass bottle when we left him alone." Hotch said. "There are tyre tracks in the snow, but it's impossible to distinguish which ones are the unsub's vehicle and which are others."

"So we have to get back to the cabin before he comes to get Prentiss." Rossi finished.

"Okay then." Morgan nodded, a dark, threatening edge to his voice and posture. "Let's go catch this creep."


	22. Chapter 22

**Warning: Very long chapter with no Morgan/Reid stuff. I wanted to get the current case over with so this chapter is just focussed on how they nab the unsub. There is also one mention of the C-word for any of you who may be upset by that kind of thing. **

**Music: The Horror of Our Love ~ Ludo **

**Lake Ponchartrain ~ Ludo**

Prentiss sat on the end of the four-poster bed, gun beside her, legs tucked under, straining her ears for the slightest sound of movement downstairs. Her heartbeat was so loud she was worried she wouldn't be able to hear. It was a struggle to control her imagination, which kept showing her the unsub creeping up the stairs.

_This is stupid. _She thought. _I have to try and relax or I won't be able to trust my ears when he actually arrives._

She picked up a magazine, scanned her eyes along the page, but her brain refused to interpret the words, so she would get to the end of a paragraph and realise she hadn't actually read it. She put the magazine down and returned to worrying, this time about Young.

He was an obnoxious idiot and the sooner he was out of her life the better as far as her stress levels were concerned, but it was a brave thing he'd done, agreeing to help them. If he died at the hands of this unsub she knew the guilt would haunt her forever.

_He might be dead already. _

_No. The unsub needs both of us to play out his fantasy._

She looked out of the window. It was snowing again. If Young was outside then the cold and the blood loss might kill him just as easily.

Why wasn't the unsub coming for her?

Suddenly the piercing ring of the cabin landline sounded, making her jump.

She frowned. The landline wasn't fully connected so usually you could only get the hotel services or the emergency number. There was no reason for anyone to call her on that number. Who could it be? She walked over to the landline to check the caller ID and dialled Hotch's number on her cell.

"You alright?" he asked.

"The landline's ringing. Looks like a cell phone number. You think it's him?"

"Might be. I'll call Garcia, get her to do a trap and trace. I'll text you when we're ready, let it ring out until then. He'll definitely keep calling you. As soon as he talks to you he has the power to set demands with Young's life as a bargaining chip and it'll be hard to strike a deal in your favour. Be careful though, it's possible he's calling you to try and distract you while he breaks in."

"Okay." She relayed him the number and hung up.

The shrill noise did nothing to calm her nerves. It finished ringing, then fell silent for a moment. She nearly panicked but it rang again, just as Hotch said it would. Finally the text came through from Hotch to say that they were good to go. She picked up the phone and took it up to the bedroom, feeling nervous and exposed downstairs. She crossed her legs underneath her, sitting on her bare feet, and answered the phone in a fake-sleepy voice.

"Hello? Baby is that you?" she murmured. There was no reply. "Adam?"

No reply. She waited, knowing Garcia needed a long time to track the signal, but the other person hung up. Then, no more than five seconds after the call ended, the power cut out.

Her heart was in her mouth as she looked around the darkened room.

Surely that couldn't be a coincidence? Something had gone wrong. Why hadn't Hotch phoned? They must have seen the outdoor lights go out on the CCTV. What the hell was going on?

She shivered slightly as a breeze caressed her bare shoulder blades, blowing in from the open window.

_The open window._

Her heart exploded into a rapid frenzied rhythm as she realised what it was that she was missing, what her instincts had been trying to warn her about. She picked up her gun with shaking hands, and got to her feet, straining her ears to hear anything outside the blood crashing round in her ears and her gasping breaths as she struggled to stay calm. The wind howled against the outside of the house and flecks of snow blew in through the open window as she pushed open the door to the en suite bathroom. No one there.

She turned to the large oak wardrobe opposite the four-poster bed, more than large enough to hide a person, and reached out with a shaky hand. She gripped the door handle in her left hand, gun in her right.

She yanked open the door and leapt back.

It was empty. That just left…

Suddenly she felt something scratch her leg. She looked down to see a hypodermic needle embedded in her calf, and stumbled backwards in shock as a man pulled himself out from under the bed she'd been sitting on, his arms like the feelers of some horrible black insect crawling out from under a rock.

Then her circulatory system pumped 20mgs of benzodiazepine into her brain and she started losing control of her limbs as he got to his feet in a leisurely manner. She tried to fire at him but he just smiled patronisingly from behind that awful mask, and held up the bullets he'd taken while she'd been downstairs. He held out his arms and caught her almost tenderly as she collapsed forward, unconscious.

...

The team were gathered round the monitor, eyes glued to the screens. The atmosphere got heavier and heavier as the minutes ticked past. Morgan stood closest, his face set with grim determination, barely even blinking. There was no way he was going to let this guy get past them again.

"Something's not right here." He said finally. "He should have come back for her by now."

At that moment Garcia called them.

"Did you find out where the signal was coming from?" Morgan asked, almost yelling the question he was so wound up.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, I may be good, but tracing a ten second call is beyond even my capabilities." She said huffily.

"Okay babygirl don't worry." Morgan hung up. "Ten seconds? What the hell is the unsub playing at?"

Hotch dialled Prentiss's cell to ask her what was going on. "She's not answering." He said.

They all exchanged worried glances.

"We can't go rushing in there." Hotch said. "Not when there could be a reasonable explanation."

"Come on Hotch!" Morgan snapped in disbelief. "This is Prentiss we're talking about! Get her out of there now!"

"If we do that then Young is as good as _dead_!" Hotch replied angrily. "I was the one who invited him on this case. We are _not _abandoning him."

For a moment there was a tense standoff between the two agents, the team watching them helplessly, not knowing who to agree with. Morgan opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it and nodded. He knew Hotch was right. They couldn't panic. Young was depending on them.

Reid nudged his way to the front.

"Excuse me…sorry…If I could just…" he put his nerd glasses on and leaned across the table to get a closer look at the monitor. He studied it for around twenty seconds and then turned to face them.

"Get her out of there." He said urgently.

"What is it?" Hotch asked.

"Don't ask me how, but somehow we've been hacked."

...

It didn't matter how fast they moved, they were far too late and they all knew it. The back door was wide open and there were faint tracks in the snow, but in the blizzard they were facing the trail would be gone in a matter of minutes. They found the open window, with a chip around the lock where he'd forced it open. They found the idiotic design flaw in the cabins which made it laughably easy for somebody to climb from the fence, to the kitchen roof to the bedroom window in ten seconds.

It shouldn't have mattered. The alarm should have gone off when he forced the window.

Except he cut the electrics first.

That shouldn't have been possible with the team watching the outside of the house via CCTV.

Except he'd hacked into the feed and set it on a loop.

Even then, there were two hidden policemen watching the house, who should have seen the lights go out.

Except he slit their throats before they could call for back up. One was still alive, they took him away on a stretcher, but it was clear that he wouldn't last long.

Blood in snow. Morgan had never seen anything like it. He couldn't stop staring at it as it soaked into the ground.

This job had plenty of awful moments, but some cases really broke your heart. He let himself think this as he closed the dead policeman's eyes, then he forced the door shut on his emotions and stood up. He had a job to do. Prentiss and Young were counting on him.

...

Young groaned as his mind swam into consciousness. His head injury was throbbing and his face felt sticky and crusty with blood. He was propped up in a heavy wooden chair, his hands bound tightly to the arms in plastic cuffs which had cut off his circulation and made his fingers somehow numb _and_ painful at the same time. Same story with his feet.

He was incredibly pleased to note the fact that his heart was still inside his chest and beating away like a metronome. A very frightened metronome.

He raised his head on a stiff neck and blinked blood out of his eyes. He was in a darkened room with no windows, but he could feel a strong draught from all four walls, and concluded that he was in some kind of wooden shack. He could also hear water.

Ah. Near the lake then.

_Still,_ he thought, _at least he kidnapped me first and not Emily. That was a big mistake. I'm sure she'll be infinitely more useful in rescuing me than I would be in rescuing her._

As if he were waiting for a precise cue to crush Young's hope with maximum effectiveness, the masked man yanked open the door, hinges squealing with rust, and carried an unconscious Prentiss inside, laying her down on the floor next to Young with ostentatious care, as if he were placing a sleeping princess on a bed of roses. He tied her hands behind her back and her feet to a metal ring on the wall while Young played dead (there really weren't many other options open to him at this stage). Then he left them alone to wake up, ready for the finale of his twisted game.

"_Emily._" He whispered, his voice cracking in his dry throat. "Emily, _please _wake up."

He listened for a reply.

"You'd better not be dead. I hope you realise I'm relying on you to think of a plan to save my puny ass." he whispered.

Still nothing.

"Or if you can't manage an escape plan, perhaps you could set your mind to how I'm supposed to use the bathroom while tied to a chair, without seriously compromising my hygiene and my dignity?" he continued. "Don't worry though, I can wait. For a while anyway. You take your time. Have a think."

There was no sound except her shallow breathing.

"That'll teach me to...accept a free holiday. I _had_ heard stories, you know? I shoulda listened. Free holidays are always terrible. Luggage going missing, flights getting double booked…serial killers trying to feed your heart to your pretend wife…" he gave a forced laugh and then had to stop as a jolt of pain and nausea from the head wound swept through him. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

_I'm going to die._ He thought, swallowing back tears. _I am actually going to die._

_..._

Meanwhile at Prentiss and Young's cabin, the team were already on the phone to Garcia.

"Babygirl we need you." Morgan said, putting his cell on speakerphone. "Seriously, now would be a great time for one of your miracles."

"Well…it's not exactly a miracle, but I have a picture of the unsub from the cameras in Carson and Son's Tailoring and Alterations, the shop where he bought the dresses. Don't get too excited though, It's very grainy even though I've increased the resolution as far as I can, I don't think it'll be much help."

"Send it anyway. Thanks Garcia." Hotch said.

"So let's remind ourselves, what do we know about him so far?" Rossi said.

"He's got to have some kind of IT background." Reid said. "And somehow he knew Young and Prentiss were FBI, but he still went ahead with his fantasy. That demonstrates a powerful need to defy authority, and that he's desperate to complete his fantasy. His cooling-off periods are getting shorter and shorter, so he's probably devolving."

"Which means he'll start making mistakes, right?" JJ asked.

"Maybe he already has…" Hotch said suddenly. "Garcia can you find me a list of male IT technicians for companies and small computer repair workshops in the area, who were fired or who quit in the last couple of years?"

"Ohh that won't be fun." She groaned. "Hang on."

There was a long silence filled with furious typing.

"Okay, I have 2,776 candidates. Hit me."

"It would be a job where he felt bored and undervalued, that his skills were going unnoticed and unappreciated. He would have been given multiple warnings about his problem with taking authority and would almost definitely have been reported for sexual harassment of female co-workers." Reid said.

"Okay…uh, 462 hits for sexual harassment! Wow…IT technicians are having no luck with the ladies are they? Way to let the side down people. At least some of us know how to be fabulous."

"He would have had a long period of medical absence fairly close to when he left, for the injury to his face." Hotch said.

"Fourteen."

"Any of them have Ukrainian names?" Morgan asked.

"Hang on…" she scrolled down. "Wait…holy crap guys!"

"What? You found him?"

"Oh yes, without a doubt. Wait until you hear this."

...

Prentiss woke up in the dark with her cheek on a cold floor. She lifted her head off the floor and tried to use her arms to sit up, but found that her wrists were tied behind her back with thick nautical rope, in a tight complicated knot which felt like it would have been hard to untie even if she'd had both hands free and enough light to see by. There was more tied around her ankles and about a metre and a half of it connecting her feet to a metal ring on the wall.

"Emily?" Young murmured, barely conscious.

"Yep." She said. "Hi. Are you okay?"

"Can't complain." He snickered in a slurred voice.

"You don't sound like you're okay." She stood up. She could hop/knee-shuffle a couple of steps away from the wall, enough to reach him. She turned around and got him to lean forward, then awkwardly but carefully, not wanting to hurt him, she felt the wound on the side of his head with her fingers. There were a couple of glass shards stuck in it and it was still oozing blood at the slightest touch. Half his hair was matted with it.

"Do you know where we are?" she asked, saying a mournful goodbye to the beautiful red satin dress before hitching up the back of the skirt and trying to rip out the ruffled red cotton lining.

"I don't know. Somewhere near the lake." He muttered, his head dropping like he was nodding off.

She tugged at her dress but the quality of the stitching was good and it was hard to tear the fabric. She needed a sharp edge, but the unsub probably hadn't been kind enough to leave them a…

Oh.

She got Young to lean forward again.

"Sorry, this might hurt." She said, and began to ease a shard of glass out of his scalp. A fresh trickle of blood leaked from his head, filled her palm in less than a second and ran down her wrist. She had to act fast or he was in trouble.

The task was much easier with a blade, and once she made a cut she was able to easily tear off the whole of the ruffled underskirt, leaving her with a large square of absorbent material.

She held it firmly against the wound until most of the bleeding stopped, then folded it and after several attempts, finally managed to tie a rough bandage around his head.

"Sorry." Young said miserably, and then leant forwards and vomited onto the floor. She rubbed his back and told him to calm down and breathe. He stopped retching but he didn't lift his head. He was unconscious again, she realised. She put one hand under his chin and one on the back of his head and pushed him against the back of the chair so his head was supported. She turned his head to the side in case he vomited again and pulled his tongue forward so he wouldn't choke on it. His skin felt freezing cold; he'd been out here a lot longer than she had.

She used the inch-long glass blade to start cutting through the cord around her wrist, wrapping her dress around the outside as a safety measure, to avoid her fingers getting too cut up. It didn't work very well but she gritted her teeth and ignored the pain. The work was awkward and slow. Really slow. Ten minutes of cutting and she'd only got a quarter of the way through the cord. She knew she probably wouldn't be able to get them both free before the unsub came back, but she didn't give up, figuring if she could get free she could find something heavy she could swing, and give the unsub a special welcome the next time he came to check on them.

She'd only got halfway through when she heard the unsub's key in the padlock across the door. She hid the flattish blade between her wrists and lay back down, faking sleep as she heard his footsteps coming towards her.

"Hello." He whispered. "My name is Misha Kurkov."

He brushed her hair back over her ear tenderly, and stroked her cheek and eyelashes with his thumb. Then to her disgust, he bent forward and placed his lips on her mouth for several seconds.

"You are very beautiful." He said affectionately in a strong Ukrainian accent. "And very convincing." He chuckled. "But I know you are awake. Don't worry I am not angry. You can open your eyes now."

She kept them closed, breathing steadily.

"Open your eyes you fucking stupid cunt." The man said, barely changing his cheerful tone.

She still kept them closed. The moment she opened them Young would be killed. The killer could be bluffing.

He slapped her. She didn't react. He slapped her again.

"I am about to lose my patience." He scowled like a petulant child. "You will obey me."

For a moment he was quiet, then she heard the familiar sound of a lighter being clicked, and the whoosh as it finally ignited. The game was up. There was no way she could stand that, and it wouldn't help her escape to get burned. She lay still right up until she felt the warmth reach the sole of her foot, then opened her eyes, yanked her leg away and sat up.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." She said apologetically, putting on a feminine 'help me' voice to play to his ego.

She thought he might burn her anyway as punishment, but he flicked the lighter off and put it away.

"I'm not angry." He said, though the cruel gleam in his black eyes said otherwise. "You only trying to protect your friend. It was nice of you to bandage his head. You must like him a lot. Why that is, I have no idea, when you could have someone like me." He took off his black eye mask and laughed bitterly, obviously referring to his facial scarring.

She looked at his face for the first time. He was blonde, surprisingly since his brother had such dark hair. His hair was longer too and tied back in a short greasy ponytail, apart from two strands at the front which were too short and fell in front of his ears. The skin on the upper half of his face was slightly shiny and red and puckered up, normal skin starting at the bridge of his nose and the tops of his cheeks. Across his forehead patches of new skin had been grafted onto the worst parts, giving him a slightly patchwork look until they healed up properly. His damaged right eyelid was still swollen half closed. He was tall and powerfully built, dressed in a black tuxedo, and his breath stank pungently of rotting meat.

"I was beautiful once too." He gave a melancholy sigh. "I would have been able to charm your panties off in less than an hour. But my brother was always jealous of me. He _sabotaged_ me. He got me drunk, and then he wouldn't pay for taxi home, so I had to take car and I crash, and now goodbye nose, goodbye skin, goodbye job! Goodbye to love of my life." He hissed bitterly. "She told me I'd _changed_ after the accident." He laughed bitterly. "She say I scare her with mood swings and drinking. So she traded me for unscarred model. My _darling_ brother. After they forced me out I lived rough in the forest around the lake, surviving in the wilderness with my broken heart, for two years. The children of the town even created a legend about me." He chuckled. "The carnivorous lake monster."

She looked him in the eye the whole time while he spoke, determined not to let him think his injuries intimidated her. For a man as vain as he had obviously been, she saw that the disfigurement must have been a disturbing change for him, but he actually didn't look that bad as burn victims went.

"I'm sorry. That must have been a terrible betrayal." Prentiss said, forcing herself to sound sympathetic. "But what have I done? What has my husband done?"

He laughed at her.

"Do not lie to me _woman. _He is not your husband. I heard the policemen talking about your plan. You were sent here to trap me, but I outsmarted you. I outsmarted the FBI." He pointed a dirty finger in her face and laughed again. "Bet you all thought I stupid. Everybody thinks this. My whole life they told me I not worth anything unless I do as I am told, but now I show them all." He chuckled. "Are you hungry little girl?" he pulled a hacksaw and a carving knife out of his rucksack and dangled the knife in front of her eyes.

Prentiss shook her head weakly. "Not right now thank you."

"Oh. That's a shame. You won't enjoy your meal very much then." He grinned.

...

Garcia read off a list of facts she'd gathered from her research.

"Misha Kurkov, younger brother of Viktor Kurkov. Parents still live in Ukraine, he arrived with his brother and girlfriend in late 2001 and became an IT technician to pay off his student loan. He kept swapping jobs because he had a problem with being bossed around, and a major problem with female co-workers. But he managed to find a job and keep it for five years, and then used his savings to help his brother buy and renovate a run-down hotel and they were pretty successful. Then in 2005 Misha was involved in a car accident which left him half blind and scarred. He also had extensive injuries to his body such as a collapsed lung, bruised spine, and two broken legs. He was behind on his insurance payments so his brother had to pay for all his treatment, and ended up having to close the hotel because he could no longer afford to run it. Apparently Misha really didn't take well to the recovery process, and treated his brother and girlfriend really badly…smashed up her car...demanded his brother pay him for his share of the business even though there really was no business at this point because his brother was looking after him. Then his girlfriend and his brother got _engaged_ and he tried to set _fire_ to her...then he ran away and wasn't seen again for four years. He was officially declared dead when the police found a beat up John Doe in a ditch at the side of a nearby road with his wallet and wearing clothes matching his description, and assumed he'd been hit by a car."

"So where do you think he would take Prentiss and Young?" Morgan asked.

"I checked the area and found no more buildings under the name of Kurkov. He's probably operating under the identity of the body the police found." Garcia said.

"What buildings are there within body-dumping distance of the lake?" Morgan asked.

"What is body dumping distance exactly?" Garcia asked.

"Use your own judgement."

"There are mostly only boathouses that close to the lake. They're used for privately owned fishing boats to dock." Reid said.

"Then there's a good chance he's using one of those. We should drive down there and start checking them." Hotch said.

"But that could take hours! There are literally thousands of boats on that lake!" Reid said. "We have to find a way to narrow it down!"

"Right, well until you do, I'll be checking them one by one." Morgan said, heading for the front door.

"I'll get the police and security team down to join the search." JJ said, taking out her phone.

"I'll drive us. Let's go." Hotch said.

...

Misha stood up suddenly and went outside, taking his rucksack and tools with him. When he came back he was holding a small digital radio which was modified somehow so that it was broadcasting the police radio frequency.

"Your friends are finally on the move." Misha said. "But they know nothing of course." He grinned smugly. "And by the time they find you I will be long gone I'm afraid."

"It takes a long time to remove a person's heart and feed it to another person." Prentiss said.

"I prefer to kill him that way, yes." He shrugged. "Buuut, I can adapt to new situation. I will just drown you straight away. I will do it perfectly next time, when I finally kill my wretched brother and his whore." He grinned.

"If you take us out onto the lake now then the cops will see you straight away." Prentiss pointed out.

"Who said anything about taking you out…" the man smiled, evidently enjoying her confusion. "Where do you think you are anyway?" he laughed.

"I don't know. Some kind of wooden shack near the lake." She said.

"Not just any old shack." He said. "This is a boathouse. You see the slanted floor? And you will also notice that the walls at the far end of the building…" He pointed behind Young's chair.

"They're made of cement." Prentiss noted, now the lamp light from beyond the open door lit up the room slightly. "From floor to ceiling."

"And you cannot see this from the inside, but there is a gate. When I lift the gate juuust a little, the water comes in, and fill the room all the way up to where the cement stops." He explained.

He lifted a foot onto Young's chair and nudged it so the chair fell backwards with an ominous crack, which Prentiss hoped was the chair hitting the floor and not Young's skull.

Then he picked up another length of rope and used it to connect her wrists and ankles, rolling her onto her stomach and tying her up like a joint of meat so she couldn't stand up. She didn't bother fighting. She knew if she struggled he'd just knock her out. Part of her wondered whether that might be a preferable way to go, but she refused to give up yet when she knew the team were looking for her. Plus she'd managed to hide the glass shard in her palm while he tied up her wrists again, so there was still hope.

She would not die at the hands of this arrogant, misogynistic batshit-crazy narcissist. She was going to live just to piss him off, to look him in the eye and see the look of shock on his face when he realised that she had survived and that he had failed, and that he was just a mortal man after all like any other, not some kind of invincible, vengeful God.

He kissed her on the forehead like he was tucking a child into bed, then stood up and closed the door behind him as he left. She broke out into a cold sweat as she heard him turn the key in the padlock. With trembling hands she started sawing away at the rope with the glass.

There was a creak and the sound of stone shifting, and the concrete wall lifted about an inch off the floor, and the icy black lake water started flowing in at a frightening rate, closer and closer, higher and higher.

She fought back tears, fought back the urge to scream and beg for her life. She suddenly hated Young for being unconscious, for leaving her to go through this horror on her own. She had always thought that however she finally ended up dying she would be okay with it, _as long as it wasn't drowning_. Her worst nightmare was the idea of being trapped underwater, totally alone, feeling her breath run out and knowing that every second brought her closer to the unbelievable pain of inhaling water into her lungs. Despite all the horrors in the world she faced on a daily basis, she had never thought it could be so cruel as to let her die this way.

The water was lapping at her feet already, and she was calculating how long it would take the team to get there and she knew it was hopeless. The journey alone would take them at least an hour, and they had only set off about ten minutes ago.

She used her abdominal muscles to move like a snail away from the water, but she was already laying in a shallow pool of it. It had already soaked the back of Young's head and the tufts of hair over his ears.

Her hands were wet now, and the glass slipped out of her hands.

"No, no, no!" she cried, stretching her fingers out in the water to try and find it.

"Emily…Emily are you there!?" she looked over and saw that Young had woken up, blinking in the dark. "Don't leave me." He said, looking like a scared child still confused and woozy from the head injury.

She stopped fighting and slumped back onto the ground.

"I'm not going anywhere." She said comfortingly, tears welling up in her eyes. "We'll be fine. They're coming to get us. We just have to wait."

She didn't have the heart to tell him the truth about their situation.

"I think you're lying." Young murmured sadly.

"Shut up you idiot. I'm not lying." She said half-heartedly.

He chuckled. "See you in hell baby."

He started thrashing and trying to tug his arms free as the water reached his face and then his mouth and nose. Prentiss shut her eyes. She couldn't bear to watch him die.

_Now_ she began to scream for her life.

But the water came for her, into her ears and eyes and nose.

Fully submerged and waiting to run out of oxygen, she suddenly heard faint banging sounds but they sounded far away in the water, then she heard a crunch and she opened her eyes and saw light! Somebody had broken down the door!

She saw a figure lean over her, felt a blade cut through her ropes and hands pulled her to her feet. Gasping for air, she helped their rescuer lift Young's chair clean off the ground with him in it and carry him outside. The half-conscious Young coughed and spluttered as they dragged him out of the door, and Prentiss collapsed onto the snow, coughing.

She looked up at the man who had saved her life and realised that it was their skiing instructor, Viktor. Misha's brother.

"I'm sorry my brother has been doing these things, I did not know, I swear to you!" he said, cutting Young out of the chair. "I came as soon as I was released, I knew he would bring you here, so I waited for him."

She sat up, gasping. She didn't have time to scream a warning before the axe came crashing down onto Viktor's shoulder and he howled in pain.

"Hello _miy̆ brat_!" Misha hissed. "Long time no see."

"Go!" Viktor screamed at her as he turned around, yanking the axe handle from his brother's grasp.

She scrambled to her feet and ran for her life towards the trees. When she looked back briefly Viktor and Misha had each other in a death grip on the snow-covered ground, it was impossible to see who was winning. It was a very small axe and Misha had been aiming to taunt rather than kill, but there was still a lot of blood. She didn't look back again.

...

Misha jammed the axe blade first into the snow beside his dying brother's body, panting triumphantly.

"Finally…" he wheezed. "You finally understand that you are weak, and I am the strong one." He threw his hands up into the sky. "YOU HEAR THAT FATHER? WHO WOULD YOU CALL THE RUNT OF THE LITTER NOW YOU OLD _BASTARD_!?"

He slung the unconscious FBI agent over his shoulder and staggered down to the edge of the lake. It was already starting to freeze, chunks of ice clunking against the boats. There was a small rowing boat sitting on the shore. He dumped Young into the boat, pulled the plug out, and pushed it into the lake with a sarcastic salute.

"May you go to your death with fidelity, bravery and integrity my friend. And take your ugly whore of a girlfriend with you when I get her back."

...

Prentiss kept running until her feet were so cold she couldn't stand it, until her lungs were burning and she was soaked in sweat. She could hear the crunching footsteps from behind her as she was pursued. She blundered around, totally and helplessly lost, knowing every second could be Young's last.

She stopped, a flash of scarlet in a black and white forest of skeletal branches. There was no point in her wasting energy by running blindly around in the dark, when she had no idea where she was. She had a good head start on him but she needed to use it wisely.

She looked behind her at the path, snow torn up by her footprints. It gave her an idea. She ran to the side of the path until she reached a large bank of snow, to make it look like she intended to hide there. Then she started running back the way she came. Backwards, fitting her feet to the prints carefully. She did this for a minute and then ran behind a fat, gnarled old tree, levelling the disturbed snow with her hands so it looked reasonably flat. She then climbed into the tree and lay flat behind a large branch, so it would be nearly impossible to see her from the path.

Then she waited, hardly daring to breathe, shutting her eyes as he ran past her tree. She gave it ten seconds and then jumped down and ran back the way she came, always a few metres to the side of the path so it would be harder for him to find her trail.

He would realise soon what she had done. He would be back. But she would be ready for him.

God would she be ready for him.

...

She was tiring now. Running through snow was hard work, especially in bare feet. She could hear him gaining on her. She turned around and realised he could actually see her now. She was fit enough, but so was he, plus he knew the terrain and had nothing left to lose.

She put on a fresh burst of speed as she broke away from the trees back onto the shore of the lake, and saw what she was looking for.

His car, right where he left it, door still open where he'd leapt out to kill his brother.

_Please don't have taken the keys, please don't have taken the keys…_she pleaded.

He hadn't!

She scrambled into the drivers seat and shut the doors, locking them from the inside. She saw his ugly face change from smug to furious as he realised what she had planned to do. She turned the key in the ignition and stamped on the accelerator.

He froze stubbornly in her path. He thought she was bluffing.

He still looked surprised that she hadn't stopped, as he flew through the air like a sack of potatoes and landed in a crumpled heap about ten metres away.

She slammed on the brake but she couldn't stop in time, and the car all-but demolished the rickety boathouse. The airbags deployed but she had no seatbelt so she got a bit bruised and banged up. Nothing serious though. She opened the door and jumped down from the driver's seat shakily, looking for Young. He wasn't where she left him.

She looked out at the lake and her heart nearly stopped when she saw that there was a boat out there half submerged. She saw an arm and a head appear over the side as Young tried to sit up.

Large bodies of water terrified her. She couldn't stop thinking about how vast and deep the water was, what horrible creatures could be lurking below the surface. Every instinct in her body told her that this lake was pure evil, that if she went in it something awful would happen to her. But then she thought about how scared she would be if it was her in that boat, with no one to save her, and she ran into the lake without another second's hesitation.

She cut through the water as fast as she could, gasping at the shock of the cold and her own exhaustion. She seemed to be swimming for such a long time she thought she might be too late, but then she saw him again, clinging to the upturned hull of the boat.

She kicked her legs faster, until she caught up with him. Just as he was about to slip under she pulled his head up out of the water and screamed at him to breathe with such ferocity that it snapped him back into consciousness. He gasped for air and started to thrash.

"Hold your breath and do small kicks with your legs!" she gasped, choking on the water. She didn't even know if he could hear her.

With a mammoth effort she began to pull him towards the shore, slowly but steadily.

His eyes were half closed and he was as white as a ghost. He mumbled something she couldn't hear.

"Huh?"

"Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me... it brought me to you. And I'm thankful for that, Rose. I'm thankful. You must do me this honor. Promise me…you'll survive. That you won't…give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. P-promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise."

It took a moment for her to understand what the hell he was talking about and then she almost slapped him.

"Never let go!" he laughed at her perplexed expression.

"Will you shut up!" she half giggled half wheezed. "This is not Titanic, and it's extremely suspicious for a heterosexual grown man know all the words off by heart."

"Say it! Come on, when are we going to get another chance to re-enact one of the most romantic… f-films of the century?" he laughed through chattering teeth. "Say it!"

"I'll never let go Jack, I'll never let go!" she gasped dramatically. "Happy?"

"Yes. Thank you." He smiled and closed his eyes.

She stopped for a rest about 100 feet from the shore, regretting that she had talked instead of preserving her energy. Suddenly there was a shout of "They're in the water!" and she turned around. It was Morgan and Reid. Morgan yelled at Reid to go and get the others, took his coat and boots off and ran into the lake, swimming towards them at top speed, his powerful strokes barely making any splash. Prentiss sighed with relief.

"We're going to be okay." She breathed.

...


	23. Chapter 23

The ambulance came and took Prentiss and Young to hospital while the team followed in the cars. Morgan heard later from Prentiss that once Young had been shot up with painkillers he'd spent most of the journey cheerfully serenading them all with a soulful rendition of Celine Dion's _My Heart Will Go On_. The poor paramedics couldn't shut him up long enough to listen to his lungs and eventually one of them threatened to take his temperature the hard way if he didn't give it a rest. So it seemed he'd survived the ordeal pretty well.

Morgan had to be checked over too since he'd also been in the water, but he and Prentiss didn't have to be kept overnight. His shoes and socks were full of water so he took them off, and his jeans were getting everything wet so he had to wring them out over a sink and carry them around with him (thankfully a nurse found him some spare scrubs to borrow while he was in the hospital).

Once the doctor had done his thing with the stethoscope and the pressure monitor and the ear thermometer he told him he could be discharged, so he went and found the waiting room where Rossi, Hotch, Reid and JJ were hanging out waiting for Prentiss, who was waiting for some kind of blood test.

She was sitting by Young's bed with one knee hugged to her chest, her wet hair tied back in a ponytail. She was wearing Reid's waterproof jacket he'd lent her to keep her warm, over the party dress which was looking a little the worse for wear. She had scratches and bruises all over her face and legs and hands. And Young was looking at her like she was his brave heroine and his beautiful princess and the love of his life all rolled up into one. The pain meds might have contributed to that but it was plainly obvious to Morgan that he adored her more than ever.

"Hey Morgan." Young said when he walked in to say hi (and to put his wet pants on the radiator to dry). "Have you met my wife? She's kind of a badass."

"Yeah?" Morgan laughed.

"And she's hot." Young continued.

Prentiss gave him a warning look.

"And I totally respect her as a woman and as a person and not just an incredibly sexy object." He finished with an innocent smile.

"My God you are so high right now." Prentiss dismissed the compliments, though her blush told a different story. "I should film this to taunt you with later." She stood up. "I'm just going to the bathroom. I'll say goodbye now in case you're asleep when I leave."

"Kay. Goodbye, light of my life." Young said with dramatic swooping hand gestures which nearly knocked a small vase of flowers off the bedside table.

"Bye asshole." She returned.

"Oh my, she's giving me pet names now." Young chuckled. "My dear chap, would you mind passing me one of the cardboard basins conveniently placed behind me to your left? As soon as possible, there's a good fellow." Morgan quickly passed him one just in time for him to flamboyantly throw up in it. Though there was nothing really left in his stomach apart from acid, so he just kept retching until he finally collapsed with a sigh and wiped his mouth on a tissue, looking extremely sorry for himself.

"Were you actually holding that back until she left?" Morgan asked, trying not to look.

"Nope." Young shook his head. "Though I'm grateful for the timing. Would you mind…?" he held out the bowl.

"Yes. Can't a nurse do it?" Morgan backed away slightly.

"Yes, but trying to pin one down in these places is like trying to catch a fish with your bare hands." Young said wearily.

Morgan sighed and holding the basin between finger and thumb he carried it to the bin and threw it away. He then took about a litre of hand sanitiser from the pump on the wall.

"Jesus it's just puke. It's not radioactive." Young mumbled.

"Sorry." He said, and sat down where Prentiss had been. "Do the doctors know you're still vomiting?"

"Yeah." Young said. "I'm waiting to have a CT scan." He sounded pretty low considering he'd been as high as a kite five minutes ago talking to Prentiss.

"How are you really about it all? You don't have to pretend. We've all been in situations like this before so we know what it's like." Morgan said.

Young laughed. "I thought I was meant to be the psychologist." He said. "I don't know. I'm okay. I mean I was unconscious for most of it. It must have been way worse for Emily." He shook his head. "No…she's Agent Prentiss now I guess."

_Oh…right. _Morgan suddenly realised what was up.

"She likes you." He said.

"What?"

"She likes you. A lot. I can tell. She just has a hard time trusting people. I know her pretty well, and I'd say if you asked her out she'd say yes."

"Really? No…it's not like that. I mean…I think she's cool and she obviously thinks I'm kind of an idiot, and I'm okay with that. We're just friends."

"You're kidding right? You two haven't stopped flirting since you first met."

"That wasn't flirting." Young protested.

"What was it then?"

"Amiable bickering?"

"Bullshit." Morgan laughed.

"Well okay _I_ was flirting. But she was just rebuffing my advances in a witty and creative manner. It's how we communicate."

"Oh man you have so much to learn about women." Morgan chuckled.

"Oh yeah? Tell me, how many women have _you_ seen naked again?" Young blurted out and then looked embarrassed. "Oh…"

There was an awkward silence. Morgan glanced the door to make sure no one was around.

"You know? How do you…?" Morgan asked in a low voice.

"Oh come on, I'm no profiler but I have _eyes_. I noticed you had kind of a thing for young Dr Reid when you went all adorably mother hen on him after his little episode Saturday night. Sorry for saying it like that without discussing it with you first though. Blame the head injury. And it goes without saying I would never out you or anything."

"Yeah I know." Morgan nodded. "And don't worry, it's not a big deal or anything. It's just easier this way."

"You're not ashamed about your sexuality?"

"Can't you wait until our next appointment before you start on the heavy stuff?" Morgan asked with a sigh.

"Fair enough." Young chuckled. "So…you didn't answer my question?"

"Like in a sexual situation? Uh…three."

"Are you bisexual then?"

"Not really…but when you're this good looking it can be hard to fight people off." Morgan joked.

"Yeah I hear you man. Total drag." Young laughed. "You tell them no but they just don't listen."

Another awkward silence.

"So my inappropriateness filter seems to have been obliterated." Young winced.

Morgan chuckled. "Don't worry. You're just about cute enough to pull it off."

At this point Reid walked in with a crappy hospital coffee for Morgan.

"Oh thanks kid." Morgan smiled and took a sip. It was cooler than he expected considering the coffee machine was less than a minute away, but since hospital coffees were always scalding hot to begin with he didn't mind.

"It's nothing. I was getting them for everyone." Reid mumbled, avoiding his eyes by inspecting Young's IV drip.

"Oh." Morgan said awkwardly. He was being slightly weird.

He caught Young's eye and shot him a quizzical frown. It looked like he was trying not to smile. _Grow up _he mouthed at Young, realising that now he knew he liked Reid he'd probably be finding subtext in everything they said to each other.

"So you really think she likes me?" Young said doubtfully, breaking the awkward silence.

"Dude I _know_ she likes you." Morgan said, exasperated, feeling like he was back in high school.

"Oh dear."

"Oh dear? What's oh dear? You like her, she likes you, she saved your life…so far it's like a gender confused fairy tale from where I'm standing." Morgan narrowed his eyes. "Oh my God. You're married!?"

"I'm not married!" Young said indignantly.

"So what?"

"Nothing. I just didn't realise. I mean are you _sure_? She finds a way to insult me in every conversation we have."

"She probably doesn't know how to handle her feelings for you." Morgan said. "So she fights with you as a defence mechanism."

Young flopped his head back into the pillow. "Oh God."

"Oh God? What the hell is 'oh God'? I thought you'd be pleased." Morgan said, suddenly worried.

"I am. I'm incredibly surprised and flattered. That's all. That and oh yeah I nearly drowned an hour ago and my brain is quite possibly bleeding into my skull." He said with uncharacteristic sharpness.

"Okay okay. Sorry man. I'll leave you now. But for the record I still think you should ask her out. Hey Reid what do you think?"

Reid raised his eyebrows. "Uh…yeah. I think…that…if you have feelings for somebody, and you think they have the feelings too…well I think that you should tell them the truth. So you can talk about it like adults." He looked at Morgan while he spoke. "Without anybody interfering."

Morgan was about to protest against this grossly unfair accusation, when Prentiss came back and said that her test results had come back clean and she'd been discharged.

"Thank God." Morgan yawned. "I'm so tired. And my pants are still soaking wet." He grimaced, picking them up off the radiator.

"Thank you." Prentiss said to him seriously, and gave him a hug, though his T-shirt was wet too.

"No problem." He smiled.

"You too Reid." She smiled and gave his shoulder a brief pat, knowing his aversion to being hugged. He smiled back and mumbled that he'd not really done anything and that he was just glad they were okay.

"You did more than my no-good husband over there." She smiled fondly at Young, who had started to doze off. He obviously meant to voice his objections, but he was too lazy to form a sentence and just made a mildly outraged 'nyaaaargh' noise.

...

They drove back to the resort, listening to the weather report on the radio. They all groaned as it said that planes were _still_ unable to fly.

"How long is this storm gonna last?" JJ lamented, missing Henry and Will.

"They don't know yet. It could be tomorrow, it could be a week." Reid said. "But the good news is that the manager is allowing us to stay as VIP guests for free for a week if we need it."

"That's nice of him." Morgan said. He was driving, Reid was next to him, JJ behind.

"Yeah. I think he wants to show how friendly he is with the FBI to make sure everyone knows he had nothing to do with the murders." Reid said.

"Understandable I guess." JJ said.

"Oh Morgan, I forgot to tell you. That cop who was guarding Prentiss, he survived!" Reid told him. "The doctors managed to save him."

For a second Morgan couldn't say anything. The news overwhelmed him for some reason. It had been such a horrible case that hearing that somebody had survived, against all odds, got him quite choked up.

"And so did Viktor. Misha didn't kill him, just knocked him out. I guess because he needed to kill him in the same way as his other victims." Reid continued.

"That's great news." Morgan smiled at Reid. "Thanks for telling me."

"No problem." Reid smiled back and turned away to look out the window.

...

Back at the cabin they all said goodnight (though it was five in the morning) and trudged upstairs. Prentiss shared with JJ.

Morgan brushed his teeth, showered and changed into clean, dry tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt. When he came out of the bathroom it looked like Reid had taken his pills and literally just conked out onto the bed, lying on his stomach, still in his bulletproof FBI vest, one arm dangling off the side of the bed.

_I love you._ He thought with a smile. He wanted to take a picture but he knew that was creepy.

He unstuck the straps of Reid's vest and tried to tug it out from underneath him. Reid half woke up and made a soft grunting noise of disapproval.

"Come on pretty boy, you can't sleep like that." Morgan smiled. Reid grudgingly lifted himself up slightly so he could pull the vest out. "Do you want your shirt on or off?" Morgan asked.

Reid thought for a moment. "Off." He muttered, turning onto his back so he could reach the buttons.

Oh. Wow. He'd expected Reid to want it on. This innocent situation now felt vaguely sexual.

_Hotch is right. I am incapable of keeping my hands off him._ He thought guiltily.

"Honestly kid, you need to lay off the temazepam until you're actually _in_ bed if it makes you this sleepy." He said sternly, trying not to sound nervous. Reid just grunted again and went back to sleep, unaware of the emotional turmoil his adorable laziness was causing.

Morgan knelt on the bed next to him (straddling him would not end well) and untied Reid's dark red tie and unbuttoned his grey shirt from collar to hem as unsexily as he could manage. After he'd got to the fifth button he lifted the shirt carefully over his friend's head, Reid lifted his arms and sat up slightly to help Morgan get it off but he didn't open his eyes. He was wearing a black Batman T-shirt underneath his work shirt, probably due to the cold, but it had ridden up slightly when Morgan took his shirt off, and now Morgan could see his stomach which was so flat and sexy and kissable that it was giving him…thoughts, and Reid wasn't giving any indication of being awake enough to pull it down so Morgan was considering whether or not there was any way he could justify carrying out the task with his teeth. But then Reid's eyes opened slightly, watching him.

"Thanks." He said with a self-conscious smile, and for a moment Morgan couldn't look away because he was imagining that this was what Reid would look like after they'd just had sex, satiated and stretched out lazily to bathe in the afterglow, looking up at Morgan through half-closed eyes, about to tell him to stop staring already and help him out of his pants for round 2.

_Damn you Pretty Boy. You're killing me here._

"You're welcome lazybones. But you can do the pants yourself." Morgan said gruffly.

"Oh yeah...obviously." Reid said quickly, with a short laugh and pulled his T-shirt down.

They both got under the covers and Reid wriggled out of his socks and pants.

Morgan lay on his back, feeling very hot even though the room was cold. He let out a long, careful breath.

He supposed it was nice that Reid was comfortable enough being with Morgan to allow him to undress him. It meant he trusted him, even though Morgan didn't feel very trustworthy at the moment.

_I really need to start keeping my distance from now on, or someday he's going to realise I've been lying to him._

_..._

Meanwhile Reid had turned onto his side, feeling ashamed. Normally he would never let someone undress him like that (unless he was sick or something, obviously.) but when faced with the opportunity he'd _wanted_ Morgan to touch him. He knew that was pathetic and bordering on deceitful, but the feeling of Morgan undressing him made his bare skin feel tingly, and his body physically _ache_ for more. The urge was so strong. He'd never felt anything like it, it almost rivalled the Dilaudid cravings.

For the first time in a long, _long_ while he felt himself getting the beginnings of an erection. He bent his knees slightly and put his hands between them to hide it, feeling self-conscious even though he was facing away from Morgan and covered by a sheet and a blanket.

He wondered what Morgan would think if he knew his friend was getting hard thinking about him, lying less than a metre away from him. Would he be angry? Disgusted? He didn't think so. Morgan was a good guy, fiercely protective of his friends. Even if it freaked him out he wouldn't say that to Reid's face. But he still worried. When he imagined Morgan laughing at him, calling him a pervert, it made him want to die of shame.

But what if Morgan was feeling the same way?

"_Can't you wait until our next appointment before you start on the heavy stuff?" _

"_Fair enough. So…you didn't answer my question?"_

"_Like in a sexual situation? Uh…three."_

"_Are you bisexual then?"_

"_Not really…but when you're this good looking it can be hard to fight people off." _

That was all he'd caught of their conversation, but it was enough to send Reid's imagination into overdrive. He'd been methodically running every possible scenario leading to this exchange through his mind ever since. (He was experiencing for the first time how amazingly effective the desire to get laid was in getting the male brain to focus on a single task.)

The main questions he had were a.) what was the question Young had asked? and b.) was Morgan telling the truth when he denied being bisexual?

The conclusion he had immediately come to upon hearing the conversation was that they were discussing the number of male sexual partners Morgan had been with. Three.

Three.

Did that include him? Was he referring to _that_ time when he spoke about not being able to fight people off? That didn't make sense though, because Reid had been the one trying to fight. It had sounded like he was joking anyway, and that wasn't the type of thing you joke about.

The more he thought about it the more he was burning with curiosity, and the more he was convinced that Morgan was in denial about his bisexuality. It made sense, the soft looks and smiles and frequent touching he was starting to notice since he'd become aware of his own sexuality (that he even _had_ a sexuality). As much as Reid tried to tell himself that this was probably just wishful thinking, he couldn't help getting excited.

_What if he really does like me too? _

The idea seemed so ridiculous at first, but the more he thought about it, the more that seemed to be the only explanation which made sense with what he'd heard and observed recently.

It explained why Morgan had seemed to know what he was doing that time they were together. He'd looked devastated to have to rape his friend, but he'd performed each act with reasonable confidence, and he'd been able to sustain an erection and ejaculate under immense pressure and scrutiny. Reid hadn't really thought about that at the time, but now he felt like an idiot for missing it. He wondered who the other men were who'd slept with Morgan.

_Oh God_. He thought as he realised who it was. _Carl Buford._

The reason Morgan knew what to do, the reason they were both still alive, was because Morgan had been molested as a child. That was unbelievably fucked up.

But there was that third man to consider. Surely _that_ had been consensual?

_I hope _he_ took care of you. _Reid thought.

He turned over to look at Morgan, who was on his side facing Reid, eyes closed, one arm bent underneath his pillow.

_What would you do if I kissed you right now? _He wondered, staring at Morgan's mouth. The horny, turned-on feeling came back as he thought about Morgan kissing him, touching him, making love to him.

Well. Fucking him. He knew the difference, and he suspected their hypothetical sexual relationship wouldn't involve very much of the first. From what he'd observed it seemed that Morgan was not very emotionally invested in the women he had intercourse with. Indeed, he never seemed to return to the same woman's bed more than once, and he was alarmingly good at picking up beautiful women, Reid remembered from the night he and Morgan went to a bar together on a case. Maybe Reid would just be one in a long line of one night stands. The thought alone made his throat go tight and painful, though he was trying to be mature and realistic with his expectations.

He thought probably a friends-with-benefits kind of deal would be the best he could hope for. Was that enough for him? He wasn't sure. On the one hand he trusted Morgan completely and he was very eager to explore these feelings he was having about him. On the other hand maybe Morgan would hate himself for sleeping with a man, maybe he would be angry and rough and unsympathetic every time they were together. It was hard to imagine that when he was usually so gentle and sweet to him.

_But he wasn't gentle and sweet at all when he was holding me down and fucking me. _

Reid turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling, the warm, tingly aroused feeling gone, replaced with anger, betrayal, humiliation. He hated his eidetic memory so much sometimes. It wouldn't let him forget what it felt like. Every time he allowed himself to think about that night, it was like he was physically back there again.

He'd had his eyes closed for most of it, tried to separate himself from what was happening. But he couldn't shut off his other senses. He remembered every second, every detail as it passed him. The deafening sound of the music and the bedsprings and Morgan trying not to cry and trying not to moan, the Faraday brothers' laughter. The smell of Morgan's two-days-in-captivity sweat mixed up in his own. The taste of Morgan's tongue, demanding and strange, the taste of his penis even stranger.

Feeling the hand, unceremoniously forcing his head down between Morgan's legs. Wondering why do people do such horrible degrading things to each other? Trying to ignore the camera shoved in his face, constantly reminding him that he had no privacy, no rights, no identity. He was just a body, a mouth, an anus to be used and controlled and ridiculed. It felt like nobody cared that this was tearing him up inside, that he would rather die than have Morgan see him do something so disgusting. It seemed to go on forever before the hand was taken away and he was allowed to stop. He felt pathetically _grateful _when they let him stop. Part of him knew that was fucked up but he already felt so worthless and ugly and broken.

And he remembered hearing himself ask for Morgan to fuck him like a dirty whore. Not content with just taking away his physical freedom, Eric Faraday had to take his psychological freedom as well, his freedom of speech. He remembered Morgan's expression, willing him to cooperate. If Morgan hadn't been there maybe Reid would have refused and just let them kill him. He went along with their game for Morgan, because Morgan would think he was an idiot for throwing his life away over something as petty as sex. And he'd probably be right. But he didn't understand that it was more complicated than that for Reid. How could he? What cause did Derek Morgan have to feel shy or embarrassed about his body? And he clearly had no problem having sex with strangers.

So Morgan had taken his emotional freedom, the freedom to die away from him too. He knew he should be grateful for that since it had meant that he'd survived, he'd lived long enough to listen to Coldplay in Morgan's car, long enough for Rossi to tell him he was strong, long enough to start having weird secret sex feelings for somebody. But when he felt really bad, sometimes he didn't feel like he really had survived. Like part of him was still dying, and it was only a matter of time before it went septic and killed him. He hadn't consented to sex and he hadn't consented to living. Both of those felt like a kind of rape.

So he was angry with Morgan, scared of being hurt by him again. But he also liked him and trusted him, respected him and loved him as a friend, and was zigzagging blindly along the border of loving him as something more. It all depended on whether he was feeling rational about how much he could really blame Morgan for, which was nothing, or whether he was feeling honest about what he blamed him for, which was a lot. Both feelings were equally true, they were just…separate.

He looked at Morgan again.

His feelings were so confused and complicated but he got the feeling that if right then Morgan were to wake up and pull Reid into his arms and say he was sorry for everything, he would've probably forgiven him completely and be back to feeling horny in about ten seconds.

But of course, he didn't.

...

**Reviews~**

**Marcallie- I actually tried it out with my boyfriend prior to writing this scene and I managed it. Eventually. After like half an hour of falling over and giggling. I am double jointed though. I see what you mean about the part where I said "she lifted her head off the floor and tried to use her arms to sit up, but found that her wrists were tied behind her back" I actually meant she went to use her arms and realised they were tied up, I didn't mean she couldn't sit up. You can pretty much do that with only your stomach muscles. That was my fault for making it ambiguous, sorry.**

**Becca – I'm perfectly happy to accept constructive criticism about my writing and to listen to advice about where the story is heading, that is kind of the point in sharing it online. But when you're complaining about a plot which has already been published, what exactly is that going to achieve? All it really did was discourage me.**

**Also you made it sound like you feel that I've deliberately tricked you in some way, luring you in with Morgan/Reid and then God forbid dedicating a _whole_ chapter to an OC. Yes I presented this story as being about the trauma they went through and how they recover from it, but I didn't think I needed to point out to people that they're still FBI agents and they still get cases. I could quite happily have found a way to get around writing actual cases for them, but I felt like that was being lazy and would cut out a whole chunk of their lives. Instead I decided to take a longer route, which I felt gave a more accurate portrayal of their recovery as being something which happens gradually, something they have to do in between saving lives. It just so happened that the case did not revolve solely around them and in hindsight perhaps that was the wrong thing to do, but heck I enjoyed the detour and I did my best to make sure it was from Morgan and Reid's POV for every chapter except the last one, for which I posted a warning at the top of the page!**

**Please bear in mind that authors work pretty hard to update regularly and to produce chapters of consistent quality. 'I've lost interest at this point, sorry.' Is a downright shitty and rude thing to say to somebody who has worked hard on something. Especially when you never bothered to tell me you liked the story at the point when you _were_ interested. **

**Epiccakex3- there is a special place in hell for people who post comments under the name 'ur mom'. xD you nearly gave me a heart attack you naughty reviewer! I probably should have noticed you used mom and not mum and we're English. But I didn't. I am so gullible. You said something about how they're expressing Reid's sexuality more in season 8? That's only just come out on DVD over here so I haven't had the chance to watch it yet, are you saying it's actually canon that Reid is gay? I didn't know that! Wow…I suppose it makes sense as he keeps turning down sexy blonde girls. Dammit I thought he was just sensitive xD oh man. I'm a little disappointed For some reason half the fun of fanfiction is turning straight characters gay.. Also that's kind of stereotyping I feel, just because he isn't all HUURR MANLY. Hmm. Mixed feelings.**

**I'm glad you feel that everyone is more in character now. I wasn't sure what you meant with Morgan, did you mean I wasn't making him forceful enough or confident enough in the first few chapters? I guess I thought he'd probably be too distraught to do anything except go along with what Reid wanted him to do. And I agree Reid is a very emotionally strong and resilient and downright badass character, but I kind of always felt like sex is his Achilles heel because he grew up so much faster than his body, like his sexual development never really happened because he would have been having the sexy feelings earlier than is socially acceptable, so they would have been shameful to him and he would have repressed them because he wanted to be perfect so that his mother and his teachers would approve of him. That was my explanation for why he didn't really pursue his feelings for women he found attractive. I prefer that to him being gay, I think that oversimplifies him. (I know I'm totally contradicting myself by writing a story in which he _is_ gay xD)**

**I will bear in mind your wish for them to have sexy times in Rossi's mansion (I didn't even know Rossi HAD a mansion. Wow.) it sounds like something I would definitely enjoy writing xD Andt no I assure you that my mother has never once used the phrase 'get it on' xD**

**also I'm glad you like Prentiss/Young.**

**also thank you for your reviews, they're very entertaining to read!**

**Medeia456- thanks for saying I could write movie plots! I think that would be my dream job. Or to have my own TV series. It would be so hard to resist putting in a ton of homoerotic subtext into EVERYTHING though... xD**


	24. Chapter 24

They all slept late the next morning and awoke at roughly the same time. After everybody was showered and dressed Rossi made them all a fried breakfast with Hotch assisting him. They ate around the dining table and the kitchen was buzzing with the sound of several separate conversations. It reminded Morgan of big family celebrations at home, his aunts, uncles and numerous cousins all helping with the dinner and the chores.

He felt warm and happy and at ease for the first time in a long while. Reid was sat next to him, and was being a little quiet, but he was often quiet when in the midst of a large group. Morgan knew by now that it wasn't that he was unhappy or uncomfortable, it was just that he enjoyed watching and listening to other people having a good time so much that it didn't really occur to him to jump in. It was something Morgan had grown to love about him. He never talked for the sake of talking, or to fill a silence like some people did, he waited until he had a thought that he felt was worthy of sharing with them.

Reid looked pretty happy and well-rested, and he was tucking into his food. That was enough for Morgan right now. It had been a horrendous few days for them, and although they hadn't openly discussed it, there seemed to have been a collective decision made that they were going to make the most of their unexpected few days of freedom and luxury.

...

The good mood improved when Hotch phoned the hospital and was told that Young's scan had shown no bleeding or damage to his brain and that he could leave that afternoon when the observation period ended.

Prentiss and JJ went to the hotel's spa for a 'girly pampering session', while Rossi, Reid and Morgan went and played on the children's indoor crazy-golf course all afternoon, a huge white glass building with fake grass and rocks and water features with bridges and waterfalls, which also had themed holes which involved hitting the ball under a car, through the blades of a fan, into the mouth of a clown which kept shutting at random times or down a tube where it would reappear somewhere else, that kind of stuff. Hotch played one round with them but then had to go get Young from hospital.

Reid won their little golf tournament of course. Every single round, wielding the mythical power of 'physics.'

"'Just a matter of physics' my ass." Morgan muttered as Reid effortlessly sank another perfect shot, on an impossible slope, dangerously near a sand bunker.

"I could give you some tips if you'd like?" Reid grinned.

"No thank you." Morgan set his jaw and stepped up to take his turn. His pride as a man would not allow it.

He swung his club…and missed the hole by about a metre. At least it didn't roll back into the bunker. He went to take his second shot and misjudged the angle slightly so the ball rolled _around_ the hole and stopped about two metres the other side.

Rossi slapped him on the back.

"Know when you're beaten son." He said.

Morgan walked over to the ball again and tapped it gently. It skidded over the hole and into the bunker. He let out a frustrated howl.

"Ahh this game is stupid anyway." He said sulkily.

"Looks like Young and Hotch are back anyway." Rossi said. Young waved at them from across the green. He had changed out of his hospital clothes, but he still had a large bandage dressing around his head to cover the twelve stitches in his scalp, which gave him the amusingly forlorn appearance of a puppy forced to wear a cone on its head. His messy fringe poked over the top of the bandage, and the tufts which normally flicked out over his ears were splayed out from underneath like fluffy sideburns.

They started a new game, Young, Hotch, Morgan and Reid, while Rossi went and sat by the bar, grateful for the excuse to sit down with a scotch and watch the young ones tire themselves out.

Young was shockingly bad at it, as he seemed to be at every sport, which made Morgan feel slightly better. He blamed it on the head injury of course. Hotch was pretty good, but Morgan managed to stay ahead of him for most of the game. Reid, it seemed, never got tired of beating everyone.

On the third hole, out of the corner of his eye, Morgan caught Young reaching into his coat pocket and sneaking a drink from a small bottle of vodka when he thought nobody was looking.

Well that partly explained why he sucked so bad.

"Young!" he hissed. "What do you think you're doing? You literally just came out of hospital with a potential brain injury!"

Young grinned mischievously. "They gave me the all clear."

"Yeah but still..." he said doubtfully.

Young handed him the bottle. "C'mon, live a little! You're not on duty anymore."

Morgan checked over his shoulder that Hotch and Reid were still distracted.

"Okay, just a little." He grinned and took a drink.

They stealthily passed the bottle back and forth between them like naughty schoolboys, getting quietly shitfaced as they moved around the course.

"Come on, you're the only one who can end his tyrannical reign!" Young muttered to Morgan as they waited for Reid to take his turn.

"How!? Look at him! He uses angles and calculations and shit. Nobody can beat that kind of witchcraft!" Morgan hissed back.

"So think outside the box! Use all the weapons available to you. Together we must claim back this noble sport for averagely intelligent men everywhere!" Young slurred, holding his golf club aloft as if it were a spear or a sword. "Find his weakness and do whatever it takes to bring him down, you hear me?_ Destroy_ him!"

In hindsight perhaps that should have acted as a warning that they were taking the match a little too seriously and should maybe calm down and sober up.

Instead, Morgan held up his own club and clunked it against Young's, with a battle cry of "For the averagely intelligent!"

Reid and Hotch exchanged glances. Both had noticed Morgan and Young's increasing rowdiness, and the fact that Young was having difficulty keeping upright.

"Should he be drinking after a head injury?" Reid murmured to Hotch.

"He's had a rough few days, I think he's just letting off steam. Just let him be for now." Hotch suggested.

Reid nodded and stepped up to take his turn. He lined up the shot in his head, took a couple of practise swings, got in the zone. He had just raised his club and started to bring it down when Young seemed to lose balance and stumbled into Reid with a 'whoops' and a muttered apology. The ball when skidding off straight into the bunker.

"Out! No points." Young shouted.

"That's not fair!" Reid protested. "You knocked into me on purpose!"

"I'M INJURED." Young said indignantly, pointing to the bandage. "That's discrimination!"

They all automatically looked to Hotch.

"Play nicely children." He said sternly. "Reid you may take another shot."

Reid put his second ball down and raised his club, about to take the shot.

Suddenly Morgan leaned in and said innocently;

"Hey Reid, your balls look a little dirty, want me to lick them for you?"

Reid tried to stop the swing but it was too late. His club clipped the side of ball so it rolled slowly off to the side.

Young and Morgan collapsed onto each other, screeching with laughter.

"Oh real mature guys! Thanks a lot!" Reid snapped. They just laughed harder.

"Okay okay. I'm sorry Reid." Morgan said, his voice squeaking a little with trying not to giggle. He reached out to take Reid's golf club. "Here, why don't you let me hold onto your shaft while you go for your balls?"

The noise Young made was not human. His legs gave way and he fell backwards onto the astro-grass, crying and convulsing with laughter.

Reid looked to Hotch for help but Hotch held his hands up, blatantly trying his hardest not to laugh. "Sorry, there's nothing against making innuendos in the rules of golf. You'll just have to not let them distract you."

Reid went over to the ball, determined not to let them sabotage him again. He spent a long time mentally preparing, feigning that he was about to take the shot in case they were planning to do it again. He gave them a suspicious glance. They smiled at him innocently.

Reid was about to tap it in for real when Young blurted out; "Careful Reid! You gotta be gentle with a hole this small!"

Fortunately Reid just caught it in time.

"Stop it!" he said, starting to giggle himself. He took a deep breath and lined up the shot again.

They didn't interrupt this time, but he was so wound up that he missed again anyway.

"Oh dear." Morgan chuckled evilly. "Looks like you're having a little trouble there Reid. Shall I give you some pointers?"

"_No_ thank you." Reid glared at him.

Morgan pretended not to hear him.

"That's right, spread your legs…get a good grip on your shaft…now stroke it smoothly." He said grinning.

"Shut up!" Reid hissed, doubling up with laughter. He'd lost his focus completely now, so he just swung the club and hoped for the best.

"Oh my God Reid, you can't just whack one off without preparing yourself!"

"That's how injuries happen!"

"I hate you both." Reid yelled, when he missed again.

They continued in this fashion all the way round, though the game became more about making Reid laugh than getting him to mess up his shots.

At hole number 11 where the ground sloped so that unless you got it in on the first go you were forced to stand under the waterfall, Morgan went with; "Wow Reid, you haven't even put it in the hole yet and you're so wet already!"

At hole number 15 where they passed a hot dog stand and Young bought a hotdog; "Hey Reid, do you want a taste of my hotdog? There's nothing like getting a big, hot, meaty sausage inside you on a cold afternoon!"

"Oh…my…_God_ Hotch…please get him to stop!" Reid gasped between giggles.

"You two should be ashamed of yourselves!" Hotch hooted, wiping the tears away from his eyes.

"I didn't even want the hotdog!" Young admitted, clutching his stomach.

"That is _real_ dedication to your craft!" Morgan wheezed, clapping him on the back and cheerfully taking the hotdog off his hands.

In the end Morgan only tied with Reid, but it still felt like a victory. After they counted up the scores he and Young did a manly chest-bump/high five/fist pump kind of deal and then sandwiched Reid into a hug between them, giving him kisses all over his face when he looked terrified and tried to wriggle out of their grasp.

Hotch went and collapsed into a chair beside Rossi while this was happening.

"You realise two of these people are legally allowed to carry weapons." Hotch said, watching their antics in disbelief.

Rossi pushed a glass towards him and poured him a scotch. "God help us all." He laughed.

"'I'll hold your shaft while you go for your balls.'" Hotch chuckled. "I have to admit that was a good one."

"Do I want to know what you're talking about?" Rossi asked.

"God no."

Reid, Morgan and Young walked (staggered in Young's case) over to their table.

"Hey agent Rossi, you should have seen Reid out there!" Young said loudly, so that most of the people in the bar turned to look at them. "That kid really knows how to shoot one off into a hole!"

Reid went bright red and covered his face with his hands, and all three of them started laughing again.

And Rossi just calmly looked at them and said;

"Wow Reid, after 18 holes I'm surprised you can still walk."

And they almost gave themselves a hernia.

...

After golf they went to meet Prentiss and JJ for dinner in the hotel bar/restaurant.

The bar was holding a kind of party to memorialise the victims, but since nobody had really known the victims there wasn't much remembering going on. It seemed like there was more drinking until they_ forgot _going on among the guests. Part of Morgan felt it was inappropriate to be partying when seven innocent people were dead, but he figured that remembrances were for the living, not the dead. These people had spent the weekend wondering if they or their loved ones would be the next to die, and now all they wanted was to put the nightmare behind them. Fourteen years in the FBI and Morgan still hadn't found a better way to do it than to get wasted, so he could hardly judge them for it.

None of the teachers or students from the school trip were there, he guessed they'd gone back to their homes in the nearby town. It felt very strange to hear John Wotton's name called out on the list of the dead, read out by the manager Daniel Orwell during his speech.

Morgan was expecting the speech to be full of endless hypocritical rambling about how sad he was left by their deaths, when if he'd shut down his hotel straight away the guests might not have been trapped there in the first place, and even now his bar was making money out of them. But his attitude changed when the Orwell actually broke down into tears halfway through and couldn't finish. He seemed genuinely distraught and wracked with guilt. He also said he planned to donate the takings for that night to the families of the victims to help with funeral costs and such. It was hard to hate him after that.

Everybody raised a glass to toast the dead and then went back to their food (and drink).

Reid sighed contentedly, slumped back in his chair having just finished pudding. He felt happy and well-rested and almost normal. Except for one small dark smudge on the horizon that nagged at him. Young and Morgan were getting along like a (very loud) house on fire, laughing and clowning around and acting like they'd known each other for years. Reid was horribly jealous. It made him feel boring, like they wouldn't notice if he left. He wanted Morgan to look at him like he was looking at Young, wanted him to put his arm around Reid like he had it around Young. So he made a decision.

"Uh excuse me, could you get me a drink?" he asked a waiter.

"Sure, no problem. What can I get you?"

"A Vodka and lemonade please."

"Reid are you sure that's a good idea?" JJ asked him. She was trying to be discreet but everybody looked at him anyway. He felt his face redden and he was about to say something snappish and irritable but Young got their first.

"Oh come on let the boy have a drink! He's a young man in his prime, and being a young man is far more liberating when you're drunk!" Young slapped him on the back. "We'll look after him won't we Morgan?" he looked at Morgan with a mischievous glint in his eye which gave Reid the impression he was up to something.

Morgan was obviously thinking along the same lines but he nodded and smiled at Reid.

"Yeah he's a grown man JJ, let him breathe." Morgan said quietly. She nodded, her face expressionless. An awkward silence fell over the table.

"Here's your drink sir." The friendly waiter said, placing it down in front of him.

"Thank you." Reid drank it as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself, and ordered another.

Hotch, Rossi and JJ drifted away to bed, as did most of the guests. Only the dedicated partiers remained in the bar and on the dance floor, Reid being one of them. The thought made him smile. He'd never been part of the 'cool crowd' before.

All his misgivings towards Young melted away with his inhibitions, and he fell about ten times more in love with Morgan after his third vodka-and-something, couldn't take his eyes off his…off him. Trying to figure out whether that touch to his shoulder was deliberate or an accident, whether his eyes were on him as much as it seemed they were. Wondering how he could put his exceptional IQ towards the worthwhile cause of getting this delicious man to take him to bed.

Then Viva la Vida by Coldplay came on the sound system, and it turned out that that was Morgan's favourite Coldplay song too, and that Young was a closeted fan himself.

Reid had never danced in public. Ever. The thought was one of great discomfort to him as he had no idea _how_ one danced, and it wasn't the kind of thing which could be studied beforehand from a book.

But now he wondered why it had seemed so hard. Dancing to this music and these feeling was more natural than breathing. He didn't even have to be convinced to take to the dance floor, he was buzzing so much with this strange chemically-induced confidence that he and Young were the ones dragging _Morgan_ out of his seat.

They joined the small crowd and sang along with Chris Martin, along with melodramatic hand gestures and with their arms around each other. Then the song finished and Prentiss waved them over and berated them for their music taste and demanded that they do tequila shots to make up for the assault on her ears. She and Young got into a heated debate in between the salt-shot-lemon routine and they decided (for some extremely logical reason) that the way to solve their differences was through an arm wrestling contest. Prentiss beat the crap out of Young and he tried to act like he let her win but nobody believed him. Morgan stepped up and wrestled with her and she put up a brave fight but lasted around ten seconds.

The game became 'arm wrestling and loser does a shot' so Prentiss did hers, and then Reid and Prentiss arm wrestled and they were pretty evenly matched to Reid's surprise, as she was incredibly fit and he did zero exercise. But then she started _really_ trying and he felt his arm being steadily eased backwards. He was happy to accept defeat and take his shot, but then it occurred to Reid that by the rules of the contest were he to win this his next opponent would be Morgan. The thought of getting to hold his hand was enough to force her hand back, back…

"I WIN! WOOO!" he yelled. Prentiss made a noise of disgust and picked up her shot with a slightly nauseous expression.

He and Morgan took up their positions across the table and Morgan grabbed his hand with an evil grin.

"Oh God, it's like watching a Chihuahua take on a grizzly bear." Young laughed. "Don't break him Derek, his mind is a valuable resource."

Reid held Morgan's hand tighter, avoiding his eyes and feeling strangely nervous, praying that his palm wasn't sweaty. _Come on muscles, we can do this._ He told his biceps sternly. _  
_

"Three, two…one!" Prentiss said.

Reid held on for dear life, but the best he could do was stop his arm going all the way down. He waited for Morgan to show his real power and slam his arm onto the table, but it never came. His muscles were screaming but he ignored the pain. He looked up and saw that Morgan wasn't even concentrating on the match, he was just watching Reid. Reid gathered up a surge of energy and managed to get their arms upright before Morgan noticed and stopped him.

"Wow, looks like the Chihuahua's got some kind of bionic limb I didn't know about." Young said after a minute.

Their arms were shaking and Reid was panting with the effort, but he refused to let Morgan end it. A few more minutes went by, and Young and Prentiss started to get bored.

"Okay now you're just holding hands guys." Prentiss laughed eventually.

They both laughed but that comment seemed to bother Morgan, as Reid felt a subtle increase in force and his arm was quickly pushed down onto the table. Prentiss and Young cheered his brave effort, while Morgan looked mildly uncomfortable. Young sprinkled some salt on Reid's palm and handed him a shot. Reid looked at it doubtfully, but licked his hand and threw back the shot. He screwed up his face at the taste and everybody laughed, and he screwed up his face even more after the lemon, and Morgan slapped him on the back. Reid smiled at him, happily intoxicated.

"I WANNA DANCE." He shouted over the thumping, repetitive music which his ears greeted more happily than the finest classical symphony.

"Do you?" Morgan laughed.

"YEAH WANNA…YOU…TOoo…DANCE WITH ME!" Reid slurred, giggling at Morgan's bemused expression. He knew it must be weird for Morgan to see him like this when normally he was so shy and inhibited. It was weird for him too, like being possessed and just watching himself doing things he had no control over. But in a good way. He felt free and rebellious and alive for the first time in his life, and he was so happy to share that feeling with Morgan. He felt like he could do absolutely anything.

Morgan got up and they danced, and not like how Morgan danced with friends, it was like the way Reid had seen Morgan dance with girls when they were all out. Reid moved his hips in the way those girls did (kind of in a joking silly 'I'm so drunk LOL' way...but kind of not) and Morgan kept looking down at Reid's body and swallowing and every time Reid 'accidentally' fell on him or bumped into him or even caught his eyes Morgan seemed to forget for a second that he was meant to be dancing, just stopped and looked disoriented. It made Reid laugh because suddenly it became so clear to him that his instincts had been spot on. Who knew alcohol made profiling so much easier?

He pretended he didn't know the effect he was having, acted like he was just enjoying the music, like he was totally oblivious to the fact that Morgan was dying to touch him and grind against him and dance in that way he ended up dancing with those girls at the end of the night just before he went home with them. Reid wanted that too, so badly it hurt. But he didn't expect Morgan to make a move on him in public.

That would have to wait until they were alone. But phase one of his seduction plan was going even better than he'd hoped.

...

Meanwhile Young was out on the sheltered veranda at the rear of the hotel building, facing the mountains, drinking a cocktail. Prentiss came out to find him, having been to the ladies to retouch her makeup.

"Hey." He smiled.

"Hey yourself." She said, sipping her Cosmopolitan. "You okay?"

He looked at her and laughed and looked up at the night sky.

"Why are you laughing?" Prentiss found herself laughing with him, though she had no idea why.

He looked like he was about to say something, but then thought better of it.

He shrugged. "Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh since there is much less cleaning up to do afterwards."

Prentiss frowned. "Is that a quote? It sounds familiar."

"Yeah it is. Kurt Vonnegut. You should look him up, the man is a God." Young said.

"YES!" Prentiss exclaimed. "I should have known that, I love Kurt Vonnegut! I can't believe…" she narrowed her eyes. "Wait…Morgan didn't tell you to say that did he?"

Young looked genuinely perplexed. "Why would Morgan want me to quote Vonnegut?"

She calmly, deliberately placed her drink on the stone wall bordering the veranda, looked up at him with her big dark eyes, and pulled him by his tie into a passionate kiss.

...

Reid and Morgan were sitting at the bar to cool down from the dancing.

"I had no idea you could dance like that pretty boy." Morgan laughed, shaking his head. "You are full of surprises tonight. We need to get you drunk more often."

"Agreed." Reid held up his drink and they clinked their glasses together.

Morgan looked at his phone. "Wow it's nearly one o'clock. That went fast. No wonder the bar's looking so empty."

"Pshhh lightweights." Reid said scornfully.

"You can talk." Morgan laughed. "You only had a few and you turned into Mr Shakira Snake-hips."

Reid burst out laughing. "Oh God." He wheezed. "I am so going to regret this tomorrow."

"Damn, I should have filmed it and blackmailed you."

"Blackmail me for what?" Reid asked innocently.

Morgan looked taken aback. He shook his head and looked away with an embarrassed smile.

"I'd think of something." He said, more suggestively than he'd intended.

Reid smiled.

...

Young put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her backwards gently, turning his face away.

"Umm…" he said desperately. "I can't. I'm really flattered but I can't, I'm so sorry."

She looked at him, unsure whether or not he was playing a game. Then she realised he wasn't, and she was suddenly furious.

"What the hell!?" she spat. "You fucking…! How could you lead me on like that?"

"Because I thought you didn't like me that way." Young clutched the top of his hair between his fingers. "I'm really, really sorry, I'm an idiot. I should have realised. It's not you, you're great, you're perfect, I just can't do this."

She raised her hand to slap him but stopped. She picked up her drink instead, looked at him like he was dirt on her shoes and turned around and walked away.

...

"Hey Prentiss, where's Young? He's not passed out or something is he?" Morgan asked her as she stalked past the bar. She stopped and looked surprised that they were still there. Then she walked up to Morgan.

"You fucking _prick_ Derek Morgan." She hissed and picked up his drink, tipping the contents over his head. "You stay out of my love life from now on…no wait, you stay out of my _personal _life, d'you hear me?"

Morgan leapt to his feet in shock at the cold, wet sensation, "What the hell!?" he yelped frantically trying to retrieve an ice cube from inside his shirt. She didn't answer him, just turned around and left.

"What did I do?" Morgan asked bewilderedly.

Seconds later Young ran past and stopped when he saw them.

"Have you two seen Emily?" he asked urgently.

"No," Morgan said sarcastically. "I just felt a little warm and decided to _wear _my Bacardi Breezer."

"Oh right. Where did she go?" the sarcasm didn't seem to register

"I think maybe you should give her some time to cool off first." Reid said, trying not to laugh at the fact that Morgan hadn't realised yet that there was a slice of lemon stuck decoratively to his head.

Young clutched his hair anxiously. "You think so?"

They both nodded.

"She still has her own drink." Morgan warned. "I'd at least wait for her to finish it if I were you." The helpful bartender passed him some paper napkins and he wiped the worst off his face. "Thanks." Morgan said.

"No problem. The bar shuts in ten though guys." she replied. "My manager asked me to tell you that we are recommending that guests who have drunk a lot stay in the hotel tonight since the weather's gotten worse and it's dangerous to be wandering about in the snow. Just go to the front desk and ask for a key."

"That sounds like a good idea." Morgan nodded, looking at Reid who was concentrating very hard on making his third wobbly attempt at climbing off the barstool. He lost his balance halfway through the manoeuvre and clutched the edge of the bar like he was caught in an earthquake. "I think I need to go upstairs and take these clothes off anyway." Morgan said, looking down at his soaked shirt and chuckling drunkenly.

Reid's heart started thumping hard.

"Yeah I think I'm gonna go to bed too." Young said.

"You okay with that pretty boy?"

Reid finally managed to slide off the stool and helpfully picked the lemon slice off Morgan's head.

"Mmhm. Wead the lay." He announced grandly, and then frowned as if he had a vague feeling that the sentence hadn't come out as he'd intended. "Wait…" Young and Morgan laughed and Morgan ruffled his hair. Reid giggled and swatted his hands away and then put his hands on his head suspiciously as if to check Morgan hadn't stolen his hair.

"Man he is out of it." Young laughed.

"Nuum not." Reid protested, letting go of his head. He counted on his fingers. "Only had three…four…_five_ single measures of spirits, which _actually_ makes only five units. The average adult male drunk can drink eight units without the blood alcohol level severely impairing motor and sensory function."

"Yeah, well the average adult male isn't taking 5mgs of Temazepam every night." Young pointed out.

"Oh…" Reid said. "Oops."

"C'mon genius, let's get you into bed." Morgan said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Reid giggled and then clapped a hand over his mouth. It took a second even for _Young_ to realise what he was laughing about.

"Oh my God you really are wasted aren't you?" Morgan laughed.

...

**Hello, hello my fabulous readers. Sorry for the delay, I had an inconvenient psychology exam to cram-revise for last weekend so I didn't get any writing done. **

**The sexual tension between the two couples has finally reached breaking point. Will Reid be successful in his mission to have sexy time with Morgan? Will Prentiss kill Young while he sleeps? All will be revealed...in the next chapter which I have also posted because I know you will hate me if I leave this at a cliffhanger xD**

**Also it's a little sad how much I made myself laugh with the golf innuendos xD **

***Prepare yourself for a shit-ton of reviews*~**

**Firstly Becca - I felt really bad I couldn't reply to you sooner cos you don't have an account so I couldn't PM you. I want to say thanks for your apology and that all is forgiven! I myself have written reviews which I later realised would have made me feel shitty to receive, I think you need to actually publish something before you realise how vulnerable authors feel about their writing. It doesn't mean you should never comment on somebody's story or give your opinion if something could be improved, it just means you have to be super-tactful about it and suck up to them a bit first so they don't get defensive, like 'oh this and this are AMAZING but maybe you could tweak this little itty bitty unimportant thing here?' xD anyway, I feel really bad for you because some of my other wonderful supportive readers, bless them, kind of jumped to my defense which was very sweet of them and made me feel very loved, but must have felt a bit angry-mob-with-pitchforks for you, and I don't want you to feel like you're not welcome to read anymore. Anyway, I hope you're still there, and thank you again for saying nice things in your apology.**

**epiccakex3 - Oopsie it seems we confused everyone with the Reid being gay in canon thing '^^HE IS NOT GAY PEOPLE I'M SO SORRY IF I GOT YOU EXCITED. That was just me misunderstanding. Also when I said I had season 8 on DVD I meant season 7 xD *derp* sorry. I think you're right about Morgan though...I hadn't noticed that, I now think maybe I do write him a little chattier than he is in the show, but I think that's okay as long as most of the talking about his feelings is generally in his internal monologue rather than to other people. Also just to clarify when you said Reid finds a female victim naked and stares at her you do mean an _alive_ victim right? xD You're welcome for Young ;D he is flirtatiously waving at you from inside my imagination. Also you don't have to apologise for long reviews! I thrive on them, literally, like I hoard my favourite ones and reread them in times of emotional crisis. **

**xX-Yuna-Zoey-Xx - Oh no I'm so sorry for getting your hopes up! I feel so silly. Thank you for reviewing though, I'm glad you enjoyed the Morgan/Reid moments. I wish I had a magic wand so I could turn them gay for you in real life!**

**(I love that I count Criminal Minds as real life.) xD**

**M3lly - the bible thing did confuse me a little xD hehe.I'm glad you're enjoying the story! You mentioned that you were only looking for the beginning? I think most people were freaked out by the first chapter so I'm glad somebody liked it! (I liked it too '^^ *slaps own wrist* I'm a bad person. It's not like I'd enjoy it in real life though...) **

**SmcdsShipper19 - thank you (: I'm glad you like the realism. As the author I'm just as impatient for them to get it on, but yeaah, they have lots of troublesome emotions and stuff I need to sort out for them first. *sigh* **

**People Person I'm Not - Haha thanks xD I'm glad you liked those.**

**Ava Duran - Your comment was so lovely! Thank you :D I'm really pleased that I managed to maintain your interest all the way through, I hate it when I get really interested in a story and then it stops being good and I'm like whyyyy. And I really appreciated your support about the above-mentioned critical review.**

**goddessofdawn369 - I noticed that too! I mean the thing about how Reid is always presented as the needy feminine one and Morgan is the stoic dominant one and it makes me sad because Reid is such a BAMF and the whole point of gay pairings is that THEY ARE BOTH MEN. So yeah. I try to avoid that stereotype. Thanks for noticing ;D**

**LaRieNGuBleR - Yeah Young plus narcotics produce very strange...very musical results. xD As for whether Reid will make the first move or whether it'll be Derek... *innocent shrug* you'll have to see :3**

** Medeia456 - Haha that sounds like my true calling xD to be the gay slash messiah and get the mainstream media to start catering for the needs of fangirls and fanboys! Maybe if I ever do write a film I'll put subtle references in it to this fanfiction so you'll know it's me! xD xD**

**Undertaker Lau - You are exactly right my friend, they both need each other so badly but are afraid of being hurt again. I would like to say Young will handle this with subtlety and professionalism but he's about to prove me wrong xD so I will say 90% of the time he will handle it with subtlety and professionalism. When he's not extremely drunk.**

**marcallie - I am very grateful to you for pointing out that embarrassing mistake, I changed it as soon as I read your review! And thank you for complimenting my grammar! :) I'm glad you like the cases. They were fun, but a total nightmare to write! So long and complicated and I have to do a ton of research to make sure I'm not using the profiley terms wrong, but at least I get to indulge my sadistic streak. :3**

**NatNazzy - Thank you (: I'm glad you enjoyed it. I love writing about Morgan from Reid's perspective for some reason, just because he's totally got the wrong end of the stick and he's getting so stressed out and it's adorable.**

**WheresReenie - *salutes* YUS SIR. Will continue as planned. Also don't be mad at the poor reviewer, I don't think they meant that Reid was gay in canon, it was my fault for misunderstanding.**

**Lissa - aww thank you :) I'm glad you agree with my take on Morgan and Reid. :) Not sure I'm a fan of him having a girlfriend *raises eyebrow* but I'm glad his friendship with Morgan is developing. I can't wait to watch season 8! Oh no, I haven't watched the Outsiders yet, I meant to put it on my christmas list but I forgot. Hopefully I'll get around to it soon. :S **

**Guest - You were up until 6am!? D: gosh. I hope you weren't too cranky after! If I go to bed any later than like 10 I become Satan the next day. I am very flattered and pleased though that you were enjoying it enough to stay up all night :) I'm glad also that you think their relationship is realistic and detailed :) it's probably because I think about them like all the time, a ridiculous amount. It's beginning to feel like they're real people who live in my head. **

**aand we'll leave it there before I make any more awkwardly personal confessions xD I did as many replies as I could and I think I got most of you. I want to reply to everyone but my word there are a lot of you now! Xxx**


	25. Chapter 25

**The song which I listened to while writing this: Heart's A Mess by Gotye**

Between the three of them they just about managed to keep upright for long enough to reach the front desk.

"Hey, there, what can I do for you sir?" The poor concierge on the night shift said, scrambling to get his feet off the desk and look like he hadn't been asleep.

"We need to stay over but we don't have a room booked." Morgan said.

"Okay no problem." The man said, typing something on the computer. "So umm…how many rooms will you gentlemen be requiring tonight?" he asked with a subtle eyebrow waggle.

Young started laughing and Morgan elbowed him in the ribs.

"One each thanks." He said firmly.

"Okey-dokey."

They took their keys and found the elevator and crowded into one of the rooms to attack the minibar. Morgan tried to convince Reid to drink water instead but he wanted a gin and tonic so after some giggly pretend bickering/wrestling for the bottle of gin they compromised on a gin and tonic _and_ a glass of water. Young watched the exchange with amusement from behind the line of miniature bottle of scotch that he was arranging like soldiers to distract himself from thinking about Prentiss.

Morgan took his shirt off to dry and Reid tried to pretend like he wasn't ogling him, thinking he was being sneaky and covert, which Young found hilarious. They thoroughly confused Morgan between them as Reid kept scowling at Young and that just made him laugh harder.

They played a few hands of poker with a pack of cards somebody had left in a drawer, not wanting their night of merriment to end yet. It was fun, but after a while part of Reid…okay _all_ of Reid, wished Young would just go away so he could measure Morgan's response to being alone with him. Luckily Young's mood seemed to drop after a while and he said he was going to bed.

(Unknown to Reid Young was inwardly chortling as he pondered how long it would take the young genius to realise he'd pickpocketed his room key.)

"We should probably go to bed as well." Morgan said with a strange firmness to his voice.

Reid wondered if on some level Morgan knew what he was planning to do. It knocked his confidence a little and he wondered if maybe all the signals he'd felt throughout the evening were just the alcohol screwing with him. So he went back to his room. And found that the key had magically disappeared.

"Awww son of a…!" Reid muttered and staggered back to Morgan's to look for it.

"I don't think it's in here." Morgan said, voice muffled by the fact that he was brushing his teeth with a white complimentary toothbrush and toothpaste. "Could you have dropped it on the way here?"

Reid's expression darkened. _"Young." _He growled.

Morgan spat his toothpaste mouthful into the bathroom sink.

"Why would Young steal your…?" understanding dawned on his face as he remembered that Young knew about his feelings for Reid and realised what Young was trying to do. He shut up quickly.

"I don't know. Who knows what goes on in his twisted little mind." Reid said uncomfortably, remembering that Young had suspected that he liked Morgan.

There was an awkward silence, since they both thought they were the ones Young was targeting with his prank.

Reid went round and hammered on Young's door for fifteen minutes, yelling that he wouldn't stop until he answered, before Morgan calmed him down and told him it was okay for him to sleep in his room, worried that they would wake up the whole fourth floor if he continued.

Back in Morgan's room they sat on his bed drinking and talking, since Reid said he didn't want to sleep yet and the alcohol had made them both feel relaxed and chatty, though it made Reid feel a little hot and bothered to be on a bed with Morgan (who had fortunately at least put his shirt on again now it was dry). The phrase 'so near and yet so far' came to mind as he racked his brains for a way to get them both naked, under the covers and touching each other. Preferably without Morgan noticing. But that sounded illegal.

They talked about what an idiot Young was (for a very long time) and they talked a lot about the case. Eventually Reid summoned up the courage to ask him how he was feeling about the stuff with Winston and his teacher.

Morgan let out a breath.

"Man…honestly? I don't know. I mean I feel awful for the kid obviously, but then I kind of feel like a hypocrite."

"Why?" Reid frowned, laying down on his front with his chin on his arms.

"Because I didn't like him when we met him. I mean _really_ didn't like him. I was all too happy to believe that bullshit Wotton fed me about what a horrible kid he was. And he made himself sound like some kind of saint, and I believed _that_…ugh it makes my skin crawl to remember it."

Reid sat up. "There's no way you could have known. Paedophiles and ephebophiles generally display elevated psychopathy. They have to spend their whole lives lying to fit into society and to avoid being caught. We know better than anyone how good at being charming psychopaths can be. There's also a good chance that he probably _believed_ his own lies, since paedophiles often use cognitive distortion to meet their needs and justify the abuse to themselves. So he wouldn't have given any physical tells even if you were looking for them. Wotton was so blatantly not the profile of our unsub that your guard was down. You can't categorise everybody into what type of serial killer they're most likely to be or you'll end up not trusting anybody."

Morgan gave a half smile. "Hotch says I already don't trust anybody."

Reid laughed. "Is he right?"

"Probably. I certainly don't trust myself." Morgan said, looking at him in a strange intense way which seemed to add to Reid's (already extensive) intoxication.

"What d'you mean?" Reid asked quietly, looking down at Morgan's mouth and swallowing.

"Forget it. I've just had way too much to drink." Morgan shook his head.

"Come on, you can tell me." Reid said, smiling.

Morgan shook his head. "Nah, I was rambling, I'm sorry."

"I know you're lying." Reid said firmly. "And just to warn you I happen to have memorised all the places on the human body where the skin is the most sensitive. If you think having your neck and feet tickled is bad, wait until you've been tickled by an anatomy expert." He threatened.

Morgan burst out laughing; "I was wondering where you were going with that for a second." He said suggestively. Reid blushed a little.

"Well…most of them do double as erogenous zones." He said.

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "It's a little scary that you know that." He said. "So have any lucky ladies felt the benefit of your scientific expertise yet?" he teased.

"That would be telling, and I know that you're just trying to distract me." Reid held up his tickly fingers menacingly.

"Well maybe I fancy a demonstration." Morgan said flirtily, obviously expecting Reid to be thrown off by the implication of anything sexual (like he usually was).

_Ha. Not going to work this time. _Reid thought triumphantly. He'd completely forgotten what information he was even trying to get out of Morgan by this time, but wouldn't pass up the opportunity of physical contact with him for a thousand dollars.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Reid grinned and pounced like a cat. Less than a minute of thrashing and shrieking from both of them before Morgan finally flipped him onto his back and pinned him down by his wrists onto the bed underneath him, both panting and giggling.

"You leave my erogenous zones alone from now on okay?!" Morgan panted sternly.

Reid bit his lip and wiggled his fingers against their restraints, acutely aware that Morgan was straddling him.

Their eyes met like that and Reid wondered if Morgan was thinking about what he was thinking. Morgan released him and Reid sat up with his left leg straight and the right one folded underneath the left. Morgan flopped backwards, accidentally-maybe-on-purpose letting his head rest on Reid's bent leg, almost in his lap. He laughed and so did Reid, at the fact that they were being so drunk and silly.

Reid had never been allowed so physically close to another man before. Even his father had kept his distance once he started walking, so it was a novelty for him to be comfortable enough with a friend to be okay with having their head in his lap.

He'd never been so drunk before. He'd never been drunk at all around Morgan.

Morgan closed his eyes sleepily. The alcohol had gone to his head, making him warm and comfortable. That's why his guard was down when Reid started tracing his cheek with the backs of his fingers. He just chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling up in that way Reid loved (loved?), and moved his head towards the touch like a cat being stroked, until Reid leant over and pressed his lips against Morgan's, kissing him upside down.

Morgan stiffened up. He opened his eyes. All he could see was Reid's neck and the underside of his jaw. He'd never been kissed from this angle, and was momentarily surprised at how well it worked. His mouth fell open automatically and he closed his lips around Reid's, as slow and deliberate as pouring syrup. Reid pulled back slightly and Morgan released his bottom lip with an accidental kissing noise which was quite loud in the hushed silence.

Morgan breathed out and Reid smiled giddily as he felt his breath tickle his neck. Morgan smiled too, but it was a sad smile. He so didn't want to shatter this perfect moment. But he had to. He told himself it was for Reid's sake, because he was young and naïve and very, very drunk, and he'd regret giving up his virginity to somebody he was only attracted to as a side effect of the trauma he'd been through.

But really it was out of self-preservation. Because as Hotch pointed out Reid was probably showing transference, or was just naive to the effects of alcohol. If they had this night together he wouldn't be able to stop himself from getting his hopes up. And he couldn't expect Reid to love him back or even to want to date him afterwards, because it would hurt so much to be disappointed.

He reached up and took Reid's face in his hands, meaning to push him away gently but his arms seemed to go weak. And Reid misunderstood, thinking he was doing it to deepen the kiss, and kissed him with more passion. Morgan turned his face to the side and Reid froze. It felt like being kicked when he looked up and saw that Reid looked so hurt and mortified, and he sat up and tugged his leg sharply out from under Morgan and moved away from him and off the bed before Morgan could even sit up and begin to explain, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands and muttering "Oh God, oh God. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." over and over.

"Hey, no no…pretty boy no. Please come back." Morgan begged softly, scrambling to get off the bed.

"Don't you _dare_ call me pretty boy now!" Reid shouted, starting to cry. "Why the hell did you have to call me that anyway!? I mean is it any wonder I ended up thinking…thinking that you…"

"Reid, Reid, it's alright, it was just a kiss, I didn't mind! I didn't mind." Morgan said urgently, pulling the young man into a hug.

"I'm sorry." Reid whispered, mortified, wrapping his arms around Morgan's waist.

"It's okay. It's okay. _I'm_ sorry, I've confused you." Morgan looked up at the ceiling to try and hold back the tears.

"I don't think I _am_ confused. This…this is the only thing that makes sense to me anymore." Reid leant his forehead against Morgan's chest. "And I _know_ that you're straight, but…sometimes it really feels like you want to tell me something, and I started to think maybe…but I just misread the signs I guess, because I wanted to believe you felt the same way. And now I've totally embarrassed myself…" he stepped back from the hug and pressed the sleeves of his shirt over his eyes.

"You haven't. You really haven't." Morgan stroked Reid's upper arms soothingly. "But please just think about what you're saying for a moment. You can't be sure about this. When…when what happened to us happened, it changed things. You can't be sure that what you're feeling is real. You know how common it is for male rape victims to become confused about their sexual orientation. Your mind is trying to explain and rationalize what happened, but you can't. You can't rationalize this."

Reid let his hands drop to his sides and looked at Morgan, small tear drops clinging to his eyelashes, his eyes slightly red.

"Are you?"

"Am I what?" Morgan asked.

"Confused. About me." His tone was demanding, almost fierce.

The question had finally been asked. There was nowhere to hide now.

_You have to tell him the truth. He deserves that at least, you've deceived him long enough._

But Morgan couldn't answer him. He froze like a coward and let all his fear and longing and lust show in his face, silently begging Reid to understand.

Reid stepped up to Morgan and looked at him, and it felt like his entire soul was being read at 20,000 fucking words per minute. He broke eye contact and looked down. Reid lifted trembling hands to Morgan's shirt, and started unbuttoning it, and it scared the hell out of Morgan because here was exactly what he'd yearned for all these years just being offered to him, but he couldn't accept it. He couldn't allow himself to believe it, because if it all turned to shit it would be like a fucking nuclear disaster for his heart, and he didn't know if he would survive it.

By the time he gently pulled Reid's hands away, his shirt was undone down to his sternum. Reid pulled them out of his weak grasp and slid his right hand between Morgan's shirt and skin and stroked his rock-hard chest, kissing his neck tentatively at the same time, softly, barely using his tongue at all, moving his mouth to a new spot after each one. The sensation made him physically shake with longing.

"Please…Reid." He closed his eyes in frustration and bliss. "I need you to stop this now...please…"

Reid smiled and raised his lips to Morgan's ear so they were cheek to cheek, closed his eyes and whispered, "Kiss me Derek."

_Did you hear that Tom? He wants a kiss. Ain't that sweet? Morgan you heard the man. Kiss him! _

Morgan grimaced and shook his head, even though his stomach went crazy with butterflies when Reid called him Derek.

"Nobody has to find out." Reid tried to reassure him, thinking it was his reputation that was bothering him. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

Reid held him gently by the collar of his shirt, gaze lowered to his throat.

"I understand it might be difficult for you to get your head around the idea of being with another man…" he said. "But if it helps, the more research is done into the nature of human sexuality the more blurred the lines seem to become. We might be able to fit into this binary system pretty well most of the time, but it doesn't mean heterosexual men are inherently unable to enjoy sex with other men and vice versa, In fact, in many cultures throughout history homosexuality was widely accepted as a..."

_Oh God he thinks I'm hesitating because I'm nervous about sleeping with a guy. This is so messed up it's almost funny. _

"sorry…I'm doing it again with the giving lectures at inappropriate moments, aren't I?" Reid gave a sheepish smile. "That's probably not sexy. I'm just…nervous, and I think maybe so are you, but you're not saying much so it's hard to tell." Reid said, smiling awkwardly.

_This would be a fabulous time to say something Derek._

_No really. Any time now would be awesome. Whenever you're ready._

Reid planted a kiss softly in the centre of his chest, and looked up into his eyes almost pleadingly. He nuzzled the spot between Morgan's ear and jawbone, at the same time ghosting his fingertips down the other side of Morgan's face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb.

"I want you..." Reid mumbled, so quietly Morgan almost didn't realise he'd spoken at all. Reid took a breath and seemed to gather up his courage to say it again properly.

"I want you…to fuck me." He said calmly.

The ugliness of the word 'fuck' coming from the mouth he so adored shocked him into reacting. He pushed Reid away firmly and shook his head.

His pretty boy had no business using words like 'fuck,' especially about himself.

"No!" he said. It came out way too harsh, and Reid flinched.

"Right…" he said, hurt flashing across his eyes for a second before he buried it. "Whatever man, it's cool. I was just asking. Sorry if I offended your _masculine ego_ or whatever. I just had a lot to drink I guess." Reid backtracked, his voice somehow sounding both like he was being sarcastic and like he was on the verge of tears. He backed away and then turned and walked out, leaving Morgan standing there wondering what the hell had just happened.

Morgan ran after him down the corridor. He just got to the elevator in time to stop the doors closing.

"Wait, we need to talk about this!"

"What is there to talk about Morgan?" Reid asked bitterly. "I was drunk, I hit on you and you turned me down. Whatever. I only wanted to see what it was like. You're the one turning this into a big deal."

"It is a big deal! Do you have any idea how wrong and…_damaging_ it is to use words like that about something which is supposed to be about showing your love for someone?"

"What?" Reid looked at him like he was insane.

"Like I could ever 'fuck' you anyway!" Morgan continued his rage. "You don't 'fuck' your best friend!"

"Why not!? We already did it once, right!? And you have to have 'shown your love' for half the women in the city, so what's one more really going to do to your sexual morality?" Reid laughed.

"What we did was not _sex_ Reid! We were forced into it! And_ thanks_ by the way for calling me a slut! I'm SORRY if my sex life repulses you, but you didn't seem to mind when you were trying to suck my face five minutes ago!" Morgan snapped.

He had been meaning to calm Reid down, not escalate the argument. But he was so sick of being called a slut. Okay so he'd never exactly been in a long term relationship, or actually _any_ relationships lasting outside the one night, but it wasn't his _fault_ if he wasn't ready for that, or that his job made it so damn hard to relate to anyone outside their profession, and that it left him no time for dating and romance. It wasn't his fault that his father figure had molested him and left him so wary of intimacy, unable to trust anybody enough to be honest about his feelings for them, because that felt like giving them control of him and he was so terrified of being used and manipulated again.

"Your sex life doesn't bother me!" Reid yelled, exasperated. "It bothers me that despite having slept with so many people you couldn't even _pretend_ to like me for one night to make me feel better! Would it have been so horrible for you to _fuck_ me just _one time_!? Do I disgust you that much!?"

"_I told you not to use that word!_" Morgan yelled back.

"Why not?" Reid laughed again. "I'm a grown man, I can use whatever words I like. _Fuck. Fuck_. We _fucked_. _You_. _Fucked. Me. _So _why _can't I say the word '_fuck_' Morgan?"

Morgan snapped and shoved Reid against the side of the elevator, and covered his mouth with his hand desperately.

"BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT_ HE _CALLED IT!" he yelled.

Reid breathed hard against his hand, startled eyes fixed on his own.

Morgan only kept his hand there for a second before he realised he was using his physical strength to dominate Reid, of all people, and felt disgusted with himself. His eyes filled with tears and he let his hand drop by his side helplessly. There was a long, heavy silence.

"Yeah." Reid said bitterly, panting slightly. "He told you to fuck me, and _you fucked me._" He spat the word 'fucked' like it was the most disgusting thing he could think of.

"I had to! They were going to _kill _you!" Morgan's eyes watered and he stuttered a little. "I _had_ to! You know that right? You believe me don't you!?" Reid just looked past him, with cold eyes and tear stained cheeks.

Morgan groaned in pain and leant his forehead against the wall to the right of Reid's head. He slumped against it, still sobbing like a child.

The doors of the elevator opened into the main lobby, which fortunately was abandoned since everyone was in bed. Reid pushed past him out of the elevator and headed for the nearest exit which led into the outdoor pool area. The night was jarringly cold, neither of them had jackets, but Morgan knew Reid would probably rather freeze to death than confront this.

"Stop! Please just _stop_ for a minute Reid." Morgan pleaded anxiously, his words making a white cloud in front of his mouth.

Without thinking about what he was doing he grabbed Reid's arm to make him stop.

Reid lashed out and accidentally cracked Morgan in the face with his elbow so hard he saw stars, screaming; "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Morgan was so shocked he half fell, half sat down on the nearest lounger.

For a few seconds they just looked at each other. Morgan tried to remember how they'd even got here, how he'd managed to end up driving the man he loved beyond words to violence and tears and running away. He knew he should probably feel angry or something, but Reid looked so devastated that Morgan knew he would beat himself up about it quite enough for both of them. And it wasn't his fault anyway because this wasn't Reid. This was the trauma, the stress, the alcohol he had no tolerance for, the crippling fear that he was losing his mind. This was being led on and rejected by one of the few people he placed his fragile trust in.

The man who was meant to _love_ him.

_Why couldn't I just do as he asked? Even if he only wanted to try me out for one night, why did I have to be such a coward? I may never get another chance to show him what it's like to have sex with somebody who adores you. I could have at least given him the best possible introduction into physical intimacy, so he wouldn't be put off sex completely by a bad first experience. Maybe now he'll never trust anybody again, maybe he'll bury his sexuality and isolate himself from relationships. And that will be because of me._

Reid dropped to his knees at Morgan's feet and buried his face in his lap, crossing his arms underneath his forehead.

"I'm so sorry." He said through painful, gasping sobs. Morgan stroked his hair back behind his ear, and then placed his hand lightly on the back of his head.

"Shhh shh. I'm okay pretty boy. See? I'm okay." Morgan hugged him tightly, one hand nestled in the genius's hair.

"I can't believe I did that." Reid whispered through tears.

"It was my fault. I should have known better than to grab you like that after what you've been through." Morgan said, mentally cursing his own stupidity.

Reid didn't seem to believe him.

The worst part of all this was that Morgan had pretty much _known_ it was coming, all evening. Reid was new to this and he was pretty subtle by most people's standards, but to somebody who knew him as well as Morgan it had been clear that something was up.

(Especially after the revelation that Reid could move his body like a lap dancer when he was drunk. That had been a surprise. A dangerously pleasing one.)

All the time they were dancing he couldn't stop imagining himself grabbing Reid and doing unspeakable things to him right there on the dance floor with everyone watching. And that's why he didn't stop Reid getting drunk, didn't stop Young and Reid coming to hang out in his room, didn't suggest that Reid go downstairs and get another key rather than offering up his own room, his own bed, when they were both drunk and slightly horny and HAD NO PYJAMAS. The animal part of him wanted Reid _so_ bad that he kidded himself into thinking he could just act like he was totally unaware of the fact that Reid was gearing up to make a move on him.

Reid looked up at him and took his hands in his own. "I didn't mean any of that." He said desperately. "I don't blame you, I _don't, _and I don't think you're repulsive for wanting to sleep around. I was just so mad and I didn't know why, and it all came out wrong."

"I know. Just forget about it. It's late and we were both drunk and emotional. People say stuff when they're drunk that they wouldn't ever say, you know? And everyone knows that. You've just gotta forget about it and move on."

"I guess. So everything I…I mean…can we just pretend all this never happened?" Reid asked desperately.

Morgan stood up and pulled Reid to his feet.

"Of course. Let's go to bed before we freeze to death out here." he said.


	26. Chapter 26

**The song Morgan and Reid listen to in the car is Hamburg Song by Keane**

**Relating to Morgan and Reid in this chapter~ Waste by Foster The People**

The weather lifted without warning the next day and somehow nobody was really in the mood to extend their vacation, so they headed to the airport. The atmosphere on the plane going home was rather chilly (and in some cases hung over). Prentiss had conspicuously taken the seat as far from Young as possible, Morgan and Reid were also blanking him, though they weren't exactly chatting amongst themselves either. JJ also still had her feathers ruffled but Morgan couldn't quite recall why and decided that under the circumstances he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty about whatever it was.

Rossi leaned over and nudged Hotch, who looked up from his newspaper.

"Do you have any idea why no one on this plane is making eye contact with anyone else?" he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"I'm as stumped as you are." Hotch said, though actually he could make a pretty good guess. He looked worriedly at Morgan, who was looking worriedly at Reid. Hotch wondered if his fears had been realised in spite of the warning he gave.

"I think we must have missed a rather eventful evening last night." Rossi said curiously.

"Well my horoscope does say that Mercury and Venus are in alignment this week and may cause conflict between family members." Hotch remarked, totally straight-faced.

Rossi raised his bushy eyebrows, but then saw the corner of the unit chief's mouth quirk slightly, and sighed in relief. "For a moment there I thought you were serious." He chuckled. "Hey gimme the sports willya? I wanna know how the Cubs did on Sunday."

Hotch allowed himself a small chortle at his own zany frivolity before passing Rossi the sport section.

Meanwhile Morgan spent the plane journey thinking about how if he was less of an idiot then maybe he could have started that morning in bed with Reid's warm body curled up next to his, instead of alone on the couch (Reid had offered to sleep there but Morgan insisted he have the bed, and sharing the bed would have been far too awkward) with a sharp ache in his shoulder and a bitch of a hangover to top it off.

Maybe Morgan would have woken up first, with the warm, slumbering genius sprawled across his chest, and he would have been dying of happiness and freaking out and trying very hard to act cool and unruffled, trying to think of a witty/sexy opening remark in preparation for when he woke up. He would have brushed his thumb over Reid's shoulder, caressed the curve of his back as far as he dared. Maybe then Reid would have woken up not knowing where the hell he was and it would have been kind of funny and kind of awkward, like all morning-afters were. But it would've been different to the others, because it was Reid.

And he'd let that opportunity slip out of his hands.

_Why am I such an idiot? _He thought to himself irritably.

...

They were dropped off at the BAU parking lot and everyone went their separate ways.

"Hey, D'you need a ride home?" Morgan asked Reid nervously as they got out of the car.

"No thank you. I-"

"Please Reid." Morgan said. Reid looked uncertain. "C'mon, I've got some Coldplay we can listen to?" Morgan tried to lighten the tone.

"Okay then." Reid smiled awkwardly. They walked over to Morgan's car and got in. Morgan plugged his iPod into the speakers and found the playlist he was looking for.

"Insomnia playlist?" Reid asked, seeing the name on the screen.

"Yeah…I made it for you when you started having trouble sleeping." Morgan admitted.

"Oh. Wow, that was really...um, so how come you didn't give it to me?" Reid asked.

"I dunno. I guess I just realised that I didn't want you to associate these songs with the memory of being in pain."

"Oh." Reid said flatly.

_But I'm still in pain._

He'd asked Morgan to forget about it, and Morgan seemed more than happy to oblige. But Reid was having difficulty doing the same. Besides the awful agonising embarrassment of being rejected and feeling like a complete idiot, his feelings for Morgan had actually _intensified_ following last night's failed seduction.

He'd _told_ himself not to get too invested in Morgan, he knew perfectly well about his promiscuity and his problems with trust. But like an idiot he still went and lost all self-control, and practically begged Morgan to sleep with him. He'd thought he was being careful, taking small steps towards a sexual and maybe a potential romantic attachment. But somewhere along the way it seemed he'd tripped himself up and gone skidding into the falling in love stage.

Still, every time he looked at Morgan he felt tingly and warm and excited and irritated and full of angst and anguish at not being able to be with him in that way. It lifted his spirits and crushed his soul simultaneously. Every. Single. Time.

So maybe he wouldn't associate these songs with the awful pain of insomnia, but now he would associate them with Morgan kissing him back for just that one moment before stopping him, and yelling at him for saying 'fuck,' and the horrible senseless things Reid had yelled back. Knowing without a doubt that Morgan didn't want him, and that this uneasy friendship was all he'd be able to have with him now. But hoping for more anyway.

He asked Morgan to email him the playlist and then spent the car journey looking out at the city and listening to the songs which would later come back to stab him in the heart all over again.

...

Fast-forward, days, weeks. Reid wished he _could_ have fast-forwarded his life, skipped past the first few awkward silences and hellos and goodbyes and the big painful elephant in the office of the BAU. He could almost see it sometimes, obese and grey and miserable, wedged in between the photocopier and the coffee machine and waving it's wrinkled trunk forlornly to try and catch somebody's attention.

His first meeting with Young since they got back, Young wasn't looking too well, tired and weak. He was back to bouncing the ball but his hands were shaky and he often missed and then looked like he wanted to kill somebody. Reid didn't care, he wasn't interested in why Young had gone and sabotaged a relationship everyone could see would have made them both happy, why he'd decided to not only screw up Reid's hope of a relationship, but rub it in his face by carelessly destroying his own when he'd been given the opportunity Reid would have killed for with Morgan.

He went back to not talking for the whole hour, regretted ever trusting Young enough to open his mouth.

...

Morgan's first session with Young was strange. They went for a walk after he finished work one evening. As they went to leave the bullpen Prentiss turned the corner in front of them and Young disappeared into Rossi's office so quick Morgan was left turning on the spot in confusion trying to work out where he'd gone, and Prentiss looked at him like she was thinking he maybe needed a few days off work.

When they got outside the building Morgan asked, "So, out with it, why the hell did you go and wreck it with Prentiss?"

Young gave a short, humourless laugh and shoved his hands in the pockets of his brown leather jacket. "Hahaa…I think I'm gonna have to pull the psychologist-patient card here and remind you that we're here to discuss _your_ messed up psyche, not mine."

"Oh, _right_ then." Morgan said sarcastically.

"So. I get the impression it didn't go brilliantly with Reid after I left."

"You _could _say that." Morgan said. "And whose fault is that?"

"Ah, that…was…a…important psychological experiment. I do that to all my patients. It's all part of the process, you know?" Young said innocently.

In response Morgan reached out and shoved him sideways into a streetlamp.

"Ow." Young protested timidly.

"Part of the process my ass. Whoever the hell licensed you as a professional therapist needs their head examined."

"Ha…that's sort of ironic."

Morgan shoved him into the next streetlamp. Young grabbed it and swung himself around it into Morgan's path with a mischievous smirk.

"Ow, okay. So since you're in such a foul mood I'm guessing there was no smoochey-smoochey time with you and Dr Reid then…?" he grinned, ducking under Morgan's arm to escape the third shove and turning his hands into duck heads, touching the tips of his fingers together while making kissy noises.

Morgan stopped and glared at him, "I swear to God, if you don't shut your…"

"Oh my God there _was,_ wasn't there!" Young exclaimed. "Wow, that's a big step! Good for you! I'm so proud of you. You're finally being open about your feelings. So how'd you screw it up? Did you use too much tongue?"

Morgan rolled his eyes. "I'm really not comfortable talking about this. I don't know if Reid would be okay with me telling you."

Young nodded. "Yes. Yes of course. We should respect his privacy."

He lasted about six seconds.

"So he wasn't into it then?"

Morgan hesitated, then sighed.

"Actually he initiated it."

"Oh." Young frowned. "That's…unexpected."

"You didn't know about…uh…about how he's been feeling?"

"Well of course _I_ knew, but the last I checked _he_ was 100 miles deep in denial and refusing to budge. Though of course I couldn't have told you anyway even if he'd told me."

"Yeah I know. But seriously what the _hell_ were you thinking, shoving us together like that? You're supposed to be our counsellor not a matchmaker." Morgan asked, annoyed.

"Okay so that wasn't the best well thought out plan." Young admitted. "But slow down there a minute, you can't blame me for what happened after I left the room. I merely combined two very, very _un_reactive chemicals in a closed container. You applied the heat yourselves. Not to mention you both happily self-administered a more than healthy dose of liquid catalyst."

"Yeah, and you knew those conditions would lead to a reaction!" Morgan protested.

"I didn't know, I suspected. It depended on you. And for the record I think it's better off this way. It may have been a little messy and dangerous, but now your bond enthalpies are stable and you can…"

"Okay your metaphor has officially reached the end of my chemistry knowledge. I haven't studied it since high school."

"I mean now it's over with, you can start to repair the damage." Young suddenly frowned. "Wait, am I missing something here? He kissed you. That's good right? Why is there even any damage to repair? Why are you not holed up in your bedroom screwing like bunnies?"

Morgan shrugged and looked down at the sidewalk. "S'complicated." He mumbled.

Young puffed his chest out. "Well as luck would have it, I happen to be trained to analyse the _shit_ out of 'complicated,' so hit me."

"Look…I've known Reid for…I don't know, like five, six years now? And in that time not once has he ever looked at me, looked at _anyone _like he…you know. Wanted them. I mean there were a couple of girls he was sweet on for a while, but he never initiated anything, he just sort of went along with what they wanted. And then all this happens and out of the blue he suddenly wants to jump into bed with me? You don't find that at all worrying?"

"Hmm. I see your point." Young admitted. He thought for a moment.

"Not many people would have the strength to resist that if it was handed to them like that." His voice softened. "You must really care about him."

Morgan looked down uncomfortably, feeling awkward. Young for once didn't push it.

"So what happened after the kiss?" he asked.

"We argued."

"About whether to pursue a relationship or not?"

"Not exactly. We got kind of side tracked and started yelling at each other about…I don't even remember. He said something about what difference did it make to me whether we slept together or not since I sleep around so much anyway."

"Makes sense. He felt vulnerable and backed into a corner so he lashed out and tried to pin as much blame as he could on you."

"I guess." Morgan replied. "He doesn't find this stuff easy."

"Neither do you. So in some ways it's pretty easy to understand how you could have worked alongside him for all this time and never known he had a thing about you. Knowing Dr Reid I could quite easily believe that he didn't even know about it _himself_. It's possible that he repressed his feelings so efficiently he never even noticed they were there until the Faraday brothers used them against him."

"You think so?" Morgan asked doubtfully.

"I think it's a possibility. Maybe you should talk about it with him, help him figure out where his feelings came from."

Morgan hesitated and then shook his head.

"I don't think he wants to talk about it. He asked me to just forget about the whole thing. And I don't think his feelings are as strong as mine anyway. He said himself that it was just an experiment for him. A drunken one night stand. I really don't want to drag it all up again and make him feel any more embarrassed than he already does."

"Well, it's up to you." Young said casually. "All you have to do in the meantime is to make sure you avoid any and all situations where you might end up alone with him behind closed doors."

Morgan chuckled. "That shouldn't be too hard, as long as somebody keeps their nose out."

"I promise nothing." Young grinned.

There was a short silence.

"How is she?" Young asked tentatively.

"Pining for you. Crying on her couch eating ice-cream and watching romantic comedies." Morgan said sarcastically. "What do you think she's doing? She's hunting down the evil in the world and kicking its ass."

"Is that the profiler equivalent of romantic comedies and ice-cream?" Young laughed sadly.

Morgan shook his head. "I don't think she ever let you close enough for that."

"Good." Young nodded, sounding like he was trying to convince himself that he meant it. "Good."

Morgan narrowed his eyes.

"What?" Young shrugged defensively.

Morgan shook his head slowly. "I should be tearing you a new one for playing with her head like that."

"Oh, right," Young said sarcastically. "Because your attitude towards me this evening has been all kittens and candy." His voice sounded different to his normal sarcasm. More bitter.

"She's like family. And she don't trust easy, you know?"

"Yeah okay I get it, I'm a jerk. So enlighten me, why aren't you beating up my sorry ass?"

Morgan slapped him on the back gently.

"Because I feel sorry for you." He said, and turned back the way they'd come from.

"Brilliant. Well. That makes two of us." Young muttered, getting his ball out of his pocket and bouncing it as he crossed the road.

...

Reid woke up every day and the idea of going to work was unbearable, because he had to face Morgan. But the idea of not going to work was just as unbearable, because then he'd have wasted a whole day of his life _not_ being with Morgan. He felt utterly pathetic and hopeless and the pain wouldn't go away.

And then the hallucinations came back.

He hadn't given them a second thought since they seemed to have disappeared with his insomnia, but one night to his horror he woke up on the couch to find somebody touching his leg, and when he turned the light on he was alone. The next morning in the shower he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned around so quick he slipped back and cracked his head on the tiles. But the sensation wouldn't go away. He still felt the hand rubbing his shoulder, no matter how he scrubbed and scratched at the skin until it was red and sore. It was like being sexually harassed by an invisible ghost with boundary issues. Except that it wasn't nearly as funny as it sounded because Reid could sense that there was something evil about it. And he had a feeling that he knew what, or rather who it was.

A couple of days went by and he started hearing flies buzzing faintly, wherever he went, even though it was November and they should all be dead by now. Before he realised it was another hallucination he'd almost torn apart his whole apartment looking for them. It drove him mad, he couldn't stop searching the room with his eyes, even when he was in the middle of a conversation with somebody, and he knew how insane that made him look.

Then after around a week of that he came home to find Eric Faraday lying on his couch watching TV. He froze up, his hand hovering above the doorknob.

"You're not real." He said hoarsely.

Eric smirked. "I don't need to be real to make your life a living hell, sweetheart."

Reid closed the door behind him, his heart pounding.

"I could go for pizza, whenever you're ready." Eric said, stretching his arms.

...

Morgan could see Reid deteriorating in front of his eyes, but there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. Reid shrugged off every conversation, refused to talk to Morgan about anything that wasn't work related, even though Morgan could see that something was making him terrified, and he had a pretty good idea what it was.

Reid was getting scarily good at hiding the symptoms from the rest of the team, too good for Morgan to be able to pin any specific thing down that was worrying him to report to Hotch, but everybody saw the haunted look in his eyes, the fact that he jumped at the slightest noise and the dark shadows under his eyes, and every member of the team sat down alone with him at some point to try and get him to open up, but Reid evidently didn't trust anybody anymore, least of all it seemed, Morgan. He wondered whether that was because of the paranoia or because of what had happened between them. He wondered if he'd brought all this on Reid again by causing him so much stress.

Reid just kept denying anything was wrong, blamed tiredness or headaches for his physical state. Morgan felt totally helpless.

...

Prentiss stormed into the BAU one morning clutching a bouquet of flowers. JJ and Morgan were the only ones there in the middle of a coffee break. She dumped the flowers on the table in front of them

"I found these on my desk." She snapped. "Can you believe that guy? He thinks a bunch of stupid flowers and an _I'm Sorry_ card is going to make everything okay again?"

JJ stood up. "Oh…well here, let me find something to put them in for you…" she said awkwardly.

"No!" Prentiss shook her head. "No. I'm not accepting these." She turned and stalked into the ladies. JJ shot Morgan a worried look and followed her. "He is not getting a damned _centimetre _of the moral high ground here." She yelled over her shoulder.

JJ opened the door to find Prentiss ripping the heads off the flowers violently and tipping them all into the sink. Prentiss looked up and seem to realise that she was behaving a little crazily. She dropped the flowers she was ripping, stepped back from the sink and held one hand up to her temple.

"I'm sorry…it's just…I was so _sure_. I am an _expert_ in human behaviour, but I swear, _nothing_ that that man does makes _any_ sense to me whatsoever." She said exasperatedly.

JJ put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Well, you know, when we profile an unsub, and they start behaving in ways that contradict what we know, it doesn't always mean we were wrong about them, it just means we're missing a part of the profile."

"I don't care what his problem is. He can take his stupid flowers and shove them up his-"

"-That's the spirit." JJ cut her off, smiling uneasily.

They walked back to the bullpen arm in arm. Prentiss's cell phone started ringing as soon as they were through the door. She scrambled to pull it out of her coat pocket but looked a little disappointed when she saw the caller ID. She excused herself, standing a few metres away and whispering in a hushed, agitated tone.

Morgan and JJ exchanged confused looks.

"That wasn't him was it?" JJ asked when she walked back over to them.

"No. It's nobody. Not important." She said.

They could tell she was lying, and they looked at her sceptically to let her know that they knew it.

She sighed. "Okay look, you know the junior police officer we worked with on the White Star Resort case, Jarvis?" They gave her blank looks. "Tall, blonde, kind of cute?"

"Oh, yeah." JJ and Morgan both said at the same time. They both gave him a funny look. He coughed and avoided their eyes.

"Anyway…after Ada-Young, pissed me off and I stormed off I kind of just wandered around getting drunker and drunker, and then I happened to bump into Jarvis." They both raised an eyebrow. "Well actually I kind of fell on him if you must know." she gave an embarrassed smile.

"And? What happened? You didn't…?" JJ's eyes gleamed.

"What? No!" Prentiss said indignantly. "I wasn't that drunk that I'd…well okay actually I _was_ that drunk, but I wasn't so desperate that I'd hop into bed with the first guy I found!"

JJ held up her hands. "Okay, sorry. Go on with the story."

"Well that's kind of it really. We talked for a while, he offered to walk me up to my hotel room, and asked for my number. And I said okay."

JJ smiled. "Wow! Well good for you!"

Prentiss nodded. "Yeah…I guess. This is like the third time he's called me today. Apparently a couple of months ago he applied for a promotion and if he gets accepted he might be moving to a department pretty close to here. I mean…not that close, but close enough that we could…you know. Make it work."

"Awesome." Morgan grinned. "Sounds perfect."

"Yeah…he's very sweet. Not at all vain or full of himself. But…I don't know…I'm not sure I should see him again."

"Why not?" JJ asked.

"Well…he's younger than me. And I hardly spoke to him, I just don't know if it would work."

"Maybe not, but I can think of a few activities which can be a lot of fun without the need for maturity or conversation." Morgan grinned.

They both looked at him disdainfully.

"Why do all guys have a one track mind?" Prentiss shook her head.

"Well…he does have a point. I mean we have a very…stressful job. You don't need to commit to anything serious if you don't want to. Just see how it goes. It might be fun."

Morgan chuckled, detecting a hint of envy in JJ's voice. He suspected that diapers and baby sick were killing her and Will's sex life.

Prentiss hesitated. "You don't think…it's a little soon? I mean…Adam..." She shook her head vigorously. "Ugh no. You're right. I might as well see where it goes, since I don't owe _Dr Young_ any kind of respect."

"Atta girl." Morgan patted her on the shoulder. "But Hotch is giving us death glares from his office so we'd better get back to the grindstone."

"Whoever built this place with glass walls should be shot." JJ complained.

...

November quickly became 'nearly christmas' according to Garcia, whose tech room sprouted tinsel from every possible surface, the soft light from the screens reflecting off them and turning the room into a robotic Santa's grotto. She had placed a star on the top of the highest screen and several plushie reindeers and snowmen on her desk singing 'jingle bells' and 'silent night'.

She had also tried to make them all wear Santa hats she'd brought, but everyone refused so she put the hats on random inanimate objects throughout the office. Rossi searched for his laptop for nearly fifteen minutes before realising it was under one of them. He snapped at her that she was turning their workplace into a joke and normally she would have been terrified and apologised meekly, but this year she was unfazed, apparently determined to knock some Christmas cheer into them all if it killed her.

JJ and Prentiss went to see 'Garcie's Grotto' during their lunch break. They walked in on Garcia in her chair kissing a kneeling Kevin, holding mistletoe above his head. They broke apart and blushed.

"Oh!" Garcia said.

"Not fraternising during work hours are we?" Prentiss grinned.

"I should go…" Kevin stuttered, getting to his feet.

Prentiss noticed with amusement as he left that Kevin was the only one who had been talked into wearing a Santa hat.

"Wow. This place looks awesome." JJ laughed.

Garcia preened a little. "What can I say? It's a gift."

They perched on the desk and chatted about their Christmas plans for a while.

"I'm spending it with my mother as usual, so I'll be drinking a _lot_." Prentiss sighed.

"Will wants it just to be me, him and Henry this year." JJ said unenthusiastically. "But…I've always been part of a big family Christmas you know? With my parents and my brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins, It would feel so quiet with just the three of us. Plus I was going to invite Spence again this year. He's been so strung out recently, I don't want him to be on his own in that sanatorium for Christmas."

"Yeah I noticed that too. He's been acting really odd lately. The other day I asked him what was up with him and Morgan recently and he said 'nothing' and I all I did was ask if something had happened with him and he got really annoyed and said 'for once could you just mind your own business?'"

"That's not like him at all." JJ frowned.

Garcia piped up, "And I walked into the kitchen yesterday lunch time and he was drinking coffee and staring into space and I said 'hey you' and he jumped and dropped his mug and it broke. And then he muttered something like 'why can't you just leave me alone?' and then walked out to get a broom." She said, leaning her elbow on the back of her chair. "I thought maybe he's finally going through the grumpy teenage phase?" Garcia suggested. "And soon he'll start listening to heavy metal and wearing eyeliner." She giggled at the thought. Prentiss laughed too but JJ was worried.

"You know…this all started a couple of months back, remember? We were on the Faraday case and they were kidnapped and then ever since, they've both been acting different." She pointed out. "I thought they were getting better at the end of the last case, acting more normal. But I guess not."

"Well, it must have been horrible. Maybe it's still playing on their minds?" Prentiss said. "On orders from Hotch I'm not supposed to tell you what happened, but Reid was in a really bad way on the last case. I think that might be why Hotch hired Young in the first place."

"What do you mean?" JJ asked.

"I'm not sure. Except that he seemed to have some kind of medical training." Prentiss replied.

Garcia sat up and started tapping on her keyboard. "Well luckily we do not need to wonder ladies, for I am the all-powerful Christmas fairy and your questions will be answered."

"Oh my God you're going to background check Adam?" Prentiss laughed. "That's kind of unethical don't you think!?"

"Not a full background, just his career and education." Garcia defended herself. "If it'll weigh on your conscience then you may leave the room now."

Neither of them moved.

"As I thought." She grinned. "It says he studied psychology for four years at Harvard and then attended the FBI training academy. Looks like he showed a lot of promise but was suddenly discharged before his final exam. He went back to college two years later to complete a PhD in clinical psychopharmacology and after that a postdoctoral Masters degree and two years of supervised prescription training to get his license. He was also awarded an associate membership to the APA which allowed him to practise psychology and prescribe drugs for his patients."

"So if Hotch hired him to treat Reid, that means…" Prentiss frowned.

"He's developed schizophrenia." JJ said quietly, gutted.

"We don't know that for sure." Prentiss put an arm around her. "It could just be a bad case of PTSD."

"Yeah, and it sounds like Young knows his stuff." Garcia said reassuringly.

"Why would it be such a big secret if it was just PTSD? If it was schizophrenia I'd understand why it had to be kept quiet, but you can stay in the FBI with PTSD as long as you show you can manage it." JJ shook her head.

Garcia and Prentiss looked at each other, not knowing what to say.

...

Morgan had left the office that evening and was walking to his car when JJ called him back.

"Hey, what's up? Need a ride?" he asked.

"How could you not tell me that Young's treating Reid for schizophrenia?" she demanded.

"What?" Morgan looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't give me that Derek! You must know! I saw you leave with Young the other night. Why else would Hotch hire a licensed psychiatrist to come on a case with us?"

"Woah, woah slow down. Reid hasn't been diagnosed with schizophrenia! Or if he has then he hasn't told me about it!"

"But Young is treating him right? And you?"

"Alright, yeah he is!"

"Because of the Faraday case?"

"Look JJ this is really none of your business!"

"It _is _my business! Reid is my friend, and he's obviously not coping! What happened on that case that hurt you both so much? How can we help Reid if we don't even know why he's upset?"

"Alright look," Morgan snapped. "If Reid _wanted_ you to know, he would have told you, but he _didn't_ did he? And I'm sorry but I don't wanna tell you either. There's nothing you can do to help him. So do both of us a favour and just leave it alone!" He was almost yelling by the end of the sentence. He turned around to walk back to his car.

JJ blinked back tears and went back inside, determined to find out what was going on.

...

**Reviews~**

**marcallie - I used 'slut' because whenever I hear people call somebody a player it's generally in a congratulatory sense, whereas slut is harsher and more derogatory. That may be specific to where I live, I don't know. Thanks for complimenting my wording though :) **

**Ava Duran - Thank you again for your lovely comment :D**

**SmcdsShipper19 - I think Young is a kind of mixture of people but mainly in my head he looks like Jared Leto on the rare occasions Jared Leto looks like a normal human being. Who do you picture him as? **

**LaRieNGuBleR - LOL no Young/Morgan is not a thing in my mind. Young is 100% straight. **

**M3lly - The link won't work for me, I think may be cutting some of it out.**

**Medeia456 - HAhaha! Sorry. But I can't believe you read slash fanfiction in your workplace! xD that's kind of naughty. Does anybody else here do that? **

**epiccakex3 - I'm intrigued. I really want to know what exactly is it about this next part of the story which you're dying to comment on? xD but I don't want to spoil the surprise so don't tell me until we're there! Haha sorry I'm such a tease :3 Very glad to be unpredictable though, that's always nice to hear. Whenever anybody says 'oh yes I can see where you're going with this' I get the urge to transform everyone into penguins just to be contrary. Also glad my character analysis meets your approval and by future profiler do you mean you are actually going to be in the FBI? No wait you're English. Do we have an FBI equivalent here? I feel I should know. I don't think we have much of a serial killer scene here though since jack the ripper. Enjoying your comments immensely as always. xx**

**NatNazzy - Thank you :) I agree with you entirely. I think it's too soon for them to start anything, Reid especially has some self-discovering to do before he's ready, and so does Morgan. Glad you enjoyed drunk Reid as much as I did! Turns out he's quite the partier after all. **

**Raeya - Unfortunate mistype there xD it made me giggle because when I read 'wanna snack Derek over the head' I thought you were saying 'I want to snack on Derek's head' and that conjured up the image of a zombie trolling on the internet just commenting on which brains it would most like to eat. *heehee* Sorry I have a strange sense of humor xD**

**Undertaker Lau - *hands tissue* there there it's okay. I'll fix them I promise. :)**

**Alchemea - Don't worry my dear xD abrupt endings are not my style. I originally thought this story would be two, maybe three chapters long. Oh how naive I was. =_= i've come to accept the fact that I am incapable of writing short stories. So no, I don't expect I shall end this story after their first time. xD and yes: Damn you Derek Morgan!**

**Welcome to Insane Black Girl and Wainwright who apparently read very quickly xD **


	27. Chapter 27

**Song for Reid's state of mind in this chapter~ Easy Way Out - Gotye**

The morning after JJ confronted Morgan was already a bad day for Reid. Not that the day before had been anything to sing about, but today his mood was like an open wound, anything it came into contact with hurt. The cold, wet weather, his work, seeing Morgan, seeing how JJ looked at him when she thought he couldn't see her, feeling like everybody was watching him, waiting for him to fail. It was the type of mood where somebody he barely knew could glance at him and it would make him feel like they knew all his darkest secrets and were judging him for them. Even the fact that his new pen ran out after hardly being used was enough to make him start furiously building up a conspiracy in his mind that whenever he turned his back everybody in the office used his pens just to piss him off. He spotted a four really creepy elephants doodled on spare bits of paper around the office, but after extensively profiling the doodler as a manic-depressive with a severe lack of empathy or respect for other people's possessions he came no closer to figuring out who in the office was responsible.

Garcia made him Christmas decorated cookies. She pretended they were for everyone in the office but he could tell it was an attempt to cheer him up. She made sure Reid got first pick from the tin.

He picked up a Santa and forced a dry smile. "I see you chose to forgo the traditional colouring." He commented.

(The Santa was wearing a pink-icing suit with edible glitter trimming instead of white fur.)

"Yeah…um, I didn't have any red icing. Or green. Or white. Or any colour except pink really." She said sheepishly. "They should taste the same though."

He nodded. "Thank you."

He was moved by the attempt to make him feel better, but it made him feel guilty because she was obviously worried about him, JJ too, and he couldn't ever explain to them what he was going through or the reason why he was behaving this way.

"Are you the one who's been drawing elephants on everything?" he asked, as she turned to give one to Morgan.

Garcia looked confused. "No."

"Elephants?" Morgan asked, biting into a yellow Christmas tree cookie.

"Never mind." Reid frowned.

He'd seen so many he was surprised they hadn't noticed. He went back to his desk and sat down and looked at an envelope which had had the first elephant drawn on the back. It was now blank.

And that's the kind of day he was having when JJ decided to broach the subject of the Faraday case with him.

"Reid, can you come help me with something in my office for a minute?" she asked.

Garcia gave an exaggerated fake gasp. "JJ you predator! You're married!"

There were a few laughs. JJ forced a smile. Reid looked at the envelope he was still holding. Now he was thinking about JJ naked along with elephants and glittery Santas stealing pens.

"I'm busy right now." He said tensely.

"Please, I won't keep you long." She said.

He stood up and followed her into the office.

She walked into the middle of the room and turned to face him. He closed the door behind him. She untied her hair and let it tumble down to her shoulders like a movie actress.

"I think I know what's been going on with you lately." She said firmly.

"Please JJ, I don't want to talk about this." He said, swallowing.

She walked over to him and took his face in her hands. They felt really soft and cool, like his mother's hand on his forehead when he was a kid and had a fever. "You don't have to." She murmured, brushing his hair back off his face.

She started kissing him and pushing him back against the door, and part of him was confused and horrified but for some reason it was comforting and he'd always thought she was pretty so he let it happen.

"What about Will?" he mumbled between kisses.

"I love you now." She whispered. She put his hands on her hips and started unbuttoning her blouse while she kissed him. He expected to feel nervous and shy but for some reason he felt like he was in control, like a snake-charmer directing her with his mind. He felt safe and comfortable. Less alone.

But then she got on her knees and started trying to get his pants undone and an attack of guilt and panic hit him in the stomach like a punch.

"Don't do that." He said, suddenly scared.

"Just be quiet Reid." She laughed. "You asked for this."

"No I didn't." he protested, tears welling up in his eyes.

"What, do you think I _want_ to do this? Do you really think I would ever want to put my hands _near_ you?" She snapped and stood up. "All this never would have happened if you didn't have this pathetic crush on Morgan, and on me. If you weren't such a perverted _freak_."

Her words felt like a punch in the stomach. He opened his mouth to protest but he couldn't say anything.

She carried on voicing the vitriolic criticism he'd unconsciously believed all this time, "If you hadn't secretly _wanted _it then you would have found a way out. You always do. And if you hated it so much then you wouldn't be constantly thinking about what it would be like to do that with Morgan again! You're just too scared to admit you get off on it, so you blame everybody else to make yourself feel-"

"Shut up!" Reid exploded. She stopped midsentence, looking surprised. "What you're saying isn't fair! I didn't want it and I didn't consent to it! That's all that matters! Whatever feelings I had for Morgan at that time, I did not deserve to be beaten, I did not deserve to be drugged, and I did _not_ deserve to be raped!"

She looked furious and clamped her hands around his throat, her fingernails cutting into him. He tried to push her off but either she was supernaturally strong or he had become suddenly weaker. He started to panic, not being able to breathe. Then he heard somebody calling his name from a distance.

He stepped back through the door and fell backwards into himself, and he looked up and saw Morgan coming towards him through the crowds. He was sitting on a bench in a town centre holding a stone cold cup of coffee and staring at a large black metal water feature shaped like two bathing elephants. He wasn't wearing a coat over his shirt and tie and grey knitted sweater vest, and he presumed he must be cold since it was below zero outside, but it didn't really bother him.

"Hey. Are you alright? You must be freezing." Morgan slipped off his jacket and put it round his shoulders. Reid was about to say he had acquired arctic superpowers and apparently didn't require warmth anymore but the jacket was warm from Morgan's body heat and heavy on his shoulders and it felt nice so he kept it on.

He was feeling very confused and had no idea how he would make it through this conversation without Morgan finding out that he knew absolutely nothing about what had happened that day or how he had ended up here. But luckily Morgan's next question outlined the basics for him.

"What did JJ say to you to make you storm out like that?"

"She…wanted to know what was wrong." Reid said. He had no recollection of it but guessed that his weird delusion of JJ sexually assaulting him was at least partly based on real events. "I…felt trapped."

Morgan nodded.

"Garcia didn't spike those cookies with psychotropic drugs by any chance did she?" Reid asked hopefully.

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "Mine was alright. Why do you ask?"

"You had a Christmas tree." Reid said.

"That's right." Morgan looked concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I just feel a little weird. Like this whole day was a dream."

"Okay." Morgan said.

"Sorry for running off." Reid said. "I hope you weren't worried."

"That's okay. To be honest, on a scale of things you've done recently which have worried me, walking out on JJ was probably the most understandable."

Reid looked down and smiled.

"Why did you come here?" Morgan asked.

Reid looked up again and scanned his environment. He had memorised almost the whole of Virginia and many other states in terms of road maps but he couldn't recall where the landmark of the elephants were from, meaning he had somehow ended up a long way from the office, most likely to the south.

"Don't know. It was as far as I could walk, I guess." He replied. "How did you find me anyway?"

Morgan frowned. "You don't remember calling me?"

Reid shook his head.

"Oh. Well when you walked out I was worried about you, so I went to your apartment during my lunch break to see if you'd got back alright, but you didn't answer the door. I kept calling your cell until you eventually answered, I asked where you were and if you needed picking up and you told me you were next to a big water feature with elephants but you were a little vague on the details. So I googled it and then came and found you."

Reid raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Thank you. Sorry you had to give up your lunch break. You must be hungry."

"That's alright." Morgan studied his face for a moment, and then sighed. "Reid…do you remember what I said to you around the time you were having your migraines on that case with the schizophrenic unsub?"

Reid gave him a look.

Morgan laughed. "Okay dumb question, of course you remember. But I'll say it again anyway. The moment I find you wandering around the streets aimlessly, that's when I start to worry about you kid."

Reid pulled the jacket tighter around himself and shivered. There was a heavy silence.

"There's a restaurant over there." Reid pointed eventually. "We should go get you something to eat."

Morgan nodded. "Okay." He said.

...

JJ watched them like a hawk over the next few days after Reid walked out on their conversation. She gathered Prentiss and Garcia together in the ladies bathroom and told them what Morgan had said. Garcia looked happy.

"Well that's good news then, right? It's obviously not schizophrenia, Derek wouldn't lie about that. So we don't need to worry."

"Yeah I know, but I _am_ worried." JJ frowned. "Something about the way Morgan clammed up so fast and got all defensive…and how Reid reacted when I mentioned the Faraday case…there's something going on, I can feel it. I hate being kept in the dark."

"Well…" Prentiss said, reapplying her lipstick in the mirror. "We know it's to do with something that happened on that case…"

"Definitely. The way we were suddenly taken off the case was really fishy too, though I didn't think about it at the time." JJ remarked.

"So, all we need is a little detective work. The police report should tell us what happened." Prentiss said. "It should be reasonably straightforward to get a hold of a copy. Well…if you're privileged enough to have a Garcia at your disposal."

Garcia smiled and saluted. "At your disposal indeed ma'am! I'll have it done by lunch time and still have time to perform all my duties for the morning, and paint my nails. Which should totally be considered a work duty BTW, I mean for me imperfections in my appearance _is_ a crime, so technically I'm fighting it by...uh okay I should stop talking and actually go do it shouldn't I?"

JJ and Prentiss nodded, trying not to laugh.

...

"So I managed to obtain a digital copy of Morgan and Reid's written statements but there's really not much in there that we don't already know." Garcia said in a hushed voice as she ushered them into her room. "It says they were taken by surprise with tasers, ouch, and then Reid was kept in the basement and Derek, poor sausage," she winced. "was kept in the trunk of their _car_ for a whole night before they took him down to the basement, then they were beaten up and cut up a little but we got them out before the brothers really got going on the torture."

"That's it?" JJ frowned. "That doesn't sound right. Two sexual sadists had them locked up for days and that's all they did?"

"Maybe they liked to take their time, watch their captives getting weaker and losing hope." Prentiss suggested with a shrug. "We never worked out that part of the profile."

"It's interesting that they kept them apart for the first night." JJ said.

"Could be a safety measure? It's possible that they saw Morgan as the bigger threat." Prentiss said.

"Also interesting; I noticed that they both mention a video camera, but their stories don't quite match. Look, Reid says 'There was a video camera at the scene but they didn't film anything,' while Morgan says 'They filmed some of the beatings but I don't remember what was on the video or when it got deleted.'" Garcia said enthusiastically, enjoying the opportunity to play at being one of the detectives for once.

"We were never told about a video." JJ said. "Did they manage to retrieve the deleted footage?"

"Doesn't look like it. It is possible to get back film you deleted so long as the camera hasn't been used since, but you'd need a forensic data specialist and it's extremely time consuming, read; expensive. Besides, they already had more than enough evidence to prosecute."

"Could you do it?" Prentiss asked.

Garcia gave an uncomfortable groan. "Theoretically yes…but for the record I am really not comfortable with this. Getting a copy of their official statements is one thing, but tampering with evidence from a case we were removed from…that's a whole new level of illegal. How would I even get hold of this camera?"

"Leave it with me." Prentiss said, her eyes gleaming a little. "I may know a guy who knows a guy. I have a couple of favours I can call in to get the right people to look the other way. I might even be able to get it done semi-legit." She said.

Garcia and JJ stared at her.

"It scares me when you talk like a mafia hitman." Garcia said. Prentiss laughed.

"Come on, look we're doing this for Morgan and Reid's sake aren't we? Are you in?" JJ asked.

Garcia shifted uncomfortably, then agreed. "Ugh fine. You can quit it with the peer pressure blondie."

"Thank you." JJ smiled.

...

Reid refused to see Young at work anymore so Hotch arranged for the next session to be at Reid's apartment.

Young arrived at the door, hands in his jacket pockets, just after Reid had eaten dinner.

"Come in." Reid said stiffly.

Young looked slightly nervous and hesitated before stepping through the door. He wiped his feet on the mat carefully before walking through to the living room.

"I've never done a home visit before." He said, sitting down on the couch uncomfortably. "Except with Aaron I mean, but that was ages ago."

Reid sat down in an armchair opposite him, one leg crossed over the other. He didn't reply.

"So how have you been this week?"

"Fine." Reid said, jiggling his stripy-socked foot restlessly.

"Morgan gave me the basics of what happened after I left that night."

Reid tensed and shifted uneasily in his chair.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"You're sorry? Really?" Reid laughed coldly. "I thought this was what you wanted? For me to make a fool of myself."

"Why would you assume that?" Young frowned.

"You're the one who brought it up in the first place! You put the idea into my head! I mean that he might...I hadn't even considered…before then…"

"Are you sure about that?" Young asked sceptically. "You don't generally develop such strong feelings for somebody overnight just because somebody plants the suggestion in your mind."

"What the hell do you know about my feelings?" Reid snapped.

"I'm good at reading between the lines. It's kind of in the job description. Please feel free to correct me if I've said anything that isn't true."

Reid scowled, "Still, you obviously knew Morgan didn't feel the same way, and you let me think that he did! You set me up to embarrass myself!"

"That wasn't my intention at all. I can't talk about what Morgan and I discussed but please don't think I ever meant to make things difficult for you. You're my patient. I want to see you get better."

Reid looked down and started biting the edge of a hangnail.

"You've mentioned twice now that you feel like you've embarrassed yourself." Young commented. "Don't you think you're being a little harsh beating yourself up about it? Practically everyone gets knocked back at some point in their lives. I know I have, and I bet Morgan has too. It's not necessarily a reflection on you."

"I know…but it was just so stupid, and…_arrogant _to think…that I could be attractive to somebody like him." Reid said, pressing a knuckle into his left temple like it hurt to talk about it.

"That's strange, since you're clearly not stupid or arrogant."

Reid glanced up at Young but didn't reply.

"And kissing somebody isn't a way of saying 'I think you're attracted to me' anyway." Young continued. "It's a way of saying 'I find _you_ very attractive and my innate biological reproductive drive is telling me we would produce very attractive and well-adapted offspring…' well not in your case obviously but you get my point, '…and in the heat of the moment I am powerless to resist the allure of your evolutionarily advantageous genes and the primal magnetism of your pheromones.'"

"You should write romance novels." Reid said sarcastically.

Young laughed. "'Somebody like him.' you said. What does that mean?"

Reid shrugged. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I have an idea what you mean, but I want to hear it in your words."

"It means…he's…" Reid paused. "Perfect." He finished. He looked at the floor, feeling like an idiot.

_Why am I even talking to him? _He wondered.

"Are you sure about that? I mean don't get me wrong, I think he's a terrific guy, but I don't really see what makes him so perfect and you so unworthy."

"Right." Reid said sarcastically.

"Oh I'm not just saying that to make you feel better. It's a genuine question."

Reid frowned. "Everybody likes him. The moment they meet him everyone wants to be his friend. The moment _I_ met him I wanted to be his friend, wanted him to like me. I've never been able to figure out how he does that."

"What do you think people think of you when they meet you for the first time?" Young asked.

Reid thought for a few moment. "At work? Their first thought is usually that I look too young to be in the FBI."

"And when you're not at work?" he asked.

Reid shrugged. "They think I'm quiet, reserved. Probably boring."

"Even when they know you're a genius?"

"Yeah, I mean they might be impressed by it, but that doesn't make them want to be friends with me particularly. Quite a lot of the time I think it has the opposite effect. At school and college if I said something clever I usually got shoved into a locker or something."

"Do you think that's why you act quiet and reserved with new people now? To make sure they're not the type who would punish you for being smarter than them?"

Reid shrugged. "I guess."

"Do you ever consider that they might think you don't like them?"

Reid frowned, "Why would they think that?"

"Because they know you're a lot more intelligent than them, and that can be very intimidating. Maybe they assume you only hang out with other geniuses, and think they don't have anything to offer you as a friend. If you come across as reserved then that only reinforces that feeling in people."

"But that's ridiculous! I don't believe intelligence can be accurately quantified! I would never be uninterested in somebody because they have an average IQ score! You don't really think people feel that way do you?" Reid looked distressed.

"Oh most definitely." Young nodded. "I did when I met you. I didn't want to take your case at first because I thought you'd be an egotistical jerk who'd make me feel stupid."

"Oh…" Reid said, slightly stunned.

"But then Aaron told me a bit more about you, and I thought I could help, so I got over myself."

Reid sat silently, trying to get his head around this.

"Did this really not occur to you?" Young asked, sounding amused.

"Well it did…but I disregarded it because it seemed arrogant to assume people were intimidated by my intelligence. I decided it was more likely to be down to my social problems."

Young nearly pissed himself laughing at that. He stood up, walked over to Reid and started ruffling his hair.

"YOU ARE SUCH A SWEETHEART." He cooed, pinching Reid's cheeks. Reid froze up in alarm and confusion and that just made Young laugh even harder and hug Reid's head to his chest, swaying from side to side. "You have basically created a whole false worldview in your mind where you blame yourself for _everything_, purely because you're worried people will think you're arrogant. That's so adorable and emotionally unhealthy and I have no idea how you've lived this long without having a mental breakdown." He collapsed back onto the couch still twitching with laughter.

Reid's moment of terror slowly subsided, and he found himself smiling.

"You really think so?"

"Just think about it genius, you'll see what I mean. Try to challenge your negative thought patterns, let yourself be more confident. Being confident doesn't mean you're arrogant, and being a little bit arrogant isn't the end of the world anyway. Nobody's perfect. _Trying_ to be perfect is the real arrogance." Young smiled.

"Ok." Reid smiled doubtfully. "I'll try that."

He suddenly noticed the absence of one of Young's annoying habits. "How come you're not throwing a ball around?"

Young took it out of his pocket, threw it up and caught it a few times.

"Uh, my aim kind of sucks recently, so I don't do it in other people's houses in case I break something important."

"Oh." Reid frowned. "It's unusual for a person to suddenly get worse at a task they perform regularly."

"Oh yeah, it's my eyesight apparently." Young said. "The doc says I need to see an optician but I don't think glasses would really suit my image, do you?" he laughed. "I suppose I'll have to though soon. Man, getting old is a bitch."

Reid looked at him closely.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, after a short pause.

"Sure."

"Why did you say no to Prentiss?" he asked.

Now it was Young's turn to look uncomfortable.

He let out a long breath. "Conflict of interests."

"What?"

"She's your colleague. Dating her while I'm treating you would be too complicated."

Reid wrapped his arms around his bent knee, looking at Young closely.

"Alright." He said, disappointed.

"Alright?" Young frowned.

"If that's the answer you're sticking with then I'm happy to go along with it." Reid said. "But maybe I'll bear that in mind when you want to go poking around in my personal life."

Young's mood changed very suddenly from playful to irritated. "I'm not using _my_ personal life as a bargaining chip to get you to open up. Either you want my help or you don't."

There was a long silence.

Eventually Reid opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and then said;

"I've been wondering lately, because it seems that every time I look at him…I feel…different, you know? And I don't mean in the emotional sense…although of course I do…feel…" he cleared his throat and looked down. "…a um…certain level of…emotional response." Young looked down, trying not to grin at that. "I mean in so much as just...generally my thoughts become more erratic and strange. So I was wondering…falling in love generates so many neurotransmitters in the brain, but specifically it creates high levels of dopamine, so I was thinking, theoretically…could falling in love trigger an attack similar to symptoms of schizophrenia?"

Young thought for a moment. "I've not come across any research done into that. I think if falling in love could actually trigger a schizophrenic break in genetically predisposed individuals then we'd certainly have noticed the correlation by now. But it seems likely that it certainly wouldn't help matters in a person already suffering from it."

Reid nodded grimly, deep in thought.

"What symptoms have you got?"

Reid shook his head. "Nothing really. Like I said…I just feel a little on edge recently, that's all."

Young looked at him intently. "Alright." He said.

There was a long silence.

"If it is that then it's only going to get worse until it's treated."

"I know."

"Seriously, take it from a shrink, trying to medicate somebody is a lot harder when they've lost the plot so much they think you're an alien overlord trying to impregnate them with your demonic sperm."

"I don't think I'm at the medication stage yet." Reid said quietly. "It's probably just stress."

"Well. I hope you're right." Young said. He asked if there was anything else Reid wanted to discuss, or anything at all he needed. Reid said no to both, and showed him to the door.

Eric watched him from the couch, where he'd been sitting next to Young the whole time.

"I thought he'd never leave." He grinned, standing up and stretching.

...

**Yeah this was a strange chapter sorry xD and my apologies for the icky het scene. **

**Reviews~**

**Xx-Yuna-Zoey-xX - 'On the train to crazy town' is a very good summary of Reid's mental state xD thank you.**

**Akidd10193 - *preens* your comment was so flattering! ;3 thank you. I also enjoyed the part where Morgan told him off for saying 'fuck.' Intense homoerotic arguments are the most fun things to write ever! xD Glad you agree with how I write them reacting to things, that's so hard to get right. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last ones! x**

**LaRieNGuBleR - By any chance did you write that comment when you were sleepy? xD your grammar was a little hit and miss, and mine gets like that when I'm writing late at night. Anyway, your review still made me smile, though I'm sorry you're angry with Morgan. Thank you :)**

**Ava Duran - Aww now all I can see is Morgan and Reid being glomped by a ghost blanket and forced to cuddle and being so confused. ^^ ****Fuck Or Die...wow I didn't realise it was a named genre xD I feel better knowing I'm not the only one, thank you :) **

**People Person - thank you for saying that :) it must be such a scary thing to go through so I'm glad I'm portraying it well. Hope you feel better soon. x**

**imaginess - AHAHAHAHAHAHA XD I'M SO SORRY BUT IF YOU'RE FRUSTRATED NOW YOU ARE SO GOING TO HATE WHAT'S COMING TO YOU IN THE NEXT CHAPTER.**

**Medeia456 - I wish I could post it all tomorrow for you but I'm afraid I can't go any faster than this! I estimate that we are maybe around 2/3rds of the way through the story, so there's plenty left to do!**

**Too Many People Not Enough Plagues - Very nice of you to say so, thank you :) **

**NatNazzy - *gives rainbow* thank you for your kind words :) I think you've left a nice review for nearly every chapter of this story and I am always very grateful for that xxx**

**twi-hard-twilight-addict - aww thank you ^^ I quite enjoy amusing myself down here by rambling about whatever comes into my head. It's nice to know that other people are enjoying it as well :) **

**Guest - haha I get the feeling you're a tumblr addict xD I love tumblr people's comments with their feels and their I can't evens. It's such an expressive way of writing xD I will write as fast as I can for you dear x**

**lynny - glad to have you back xD I will do my best to deliver large quantities of angst for you.**

**Kisa167 - Me too ): **

**justanotherguest - You are welcome! Hope your holidays were suitably unproductive and full of internet procrastination!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Song for this chapter~ Eyes Wide Open - Gotye**

**Song in Reid's car~ A Real Hero - College & Electric Youth**

To Morgan's surprise Reid came up to him, a few days later while he was at his desk packing up to go home.

"Hey." Morgan said gently, stopping what he was doing. Reid nodded, hovering awkwardly beside him. "You okay?"

Reid rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head, not meeting Morgan's eyes. "Not really." He said. "I was wondering if you had any plans for tonight?"

"No, nothing planned. Do you want to come over to my place and talk?" Morgan asked.

Reid shook his head. "No thanks I was just…thinking, uh, you use the exercise facility here a lot don't you?"

"Sure, few times a week." Morgan nodded.

Then Reid said the last thing Morgan expected to hear from him. "Could you…um…train me? I'm not asking for miracles, obviously I won't reach anything like your…um…" he looked down and looked embarrassed. Morgan couldn't help enjoying that. "I mean we've got different metabolisms and muscle mass…but I've been thinking that…um, maybe I would be a better agent if I didn't look like a bipedal stick insect."

"You want me to coach you?" Morgan grinned in disbelief, trying very hard not to laugh as he knew how hard it would have been for Reid to ask.

Reid blushed and looked extremely embarrassed. "Yeah. Thanks. You don't have to look quite so astonished."

"But you hate exercise." Morgan said.

"…Yeah. But besides my FBI training I haven't tried it properly since high school and there were…other reasons why I found that painful. I was thinking maybe it wouldn't be so bad if it was just you and me."

Morgan didn't even have to consider it. He'd have to rearrange his workout schedule, but if this odd request was what Reid felt he needed to do then there was no question that he'd help.

"Sure. You can pay me in coffees. Starting tomorrow morning." He smiled, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Deal." Reid smiled.

Morgan finished packing up and then they went to his locker so he could pick up his spare kit and then they headed to the changing rooms. Reid changed into the navy FBI polo shirt and dark grey tracksuit bottoms he'd brought, Morgan wore his own black T-shirt and black shorts with a red stripe down the outsides. Young's words about not ending up alone behind closed doors with Reid echoed in his mind and he tried to resist glancing over at Reid as he got changed.

...

"Okay kid, just follow my lead." Morgan said, trying not to enjoy the power too much.

He started off with five minutes of stretching out the muscles in his legs and upper body. Reid did his best to copy him in spite of the fact that, as he warned Morgan, he was 'about as flexible as reinforced concrete.'

"Isn't this far enough?" Reid asked, bent over in front of him, feet slightly apart, trying to touch the floor.

"Nu uh. Keep going pretty boy." Morgan grinned with his head on one side.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't call me that while we're in this position. It feels vaguely inappropriate." Reid said, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. He looked sternly at Morgan through his own legs and caught Morgan staring shamelessly. He looked surprised and straightened up quickly.

"Huh I thought you were doing it too." He remarked, one eyebrow raised.

Morgan cleared his throat. "Treadmill, ten minute walk, twenty minutes running."

As he had hoped this distracted Reid, who made a face. "Don't make me laugh. No human could possibly run for twenty minutes."

"DO NOT QUESTION THE CHIEF REID." Morgan thundered. He pointed at the machine. "TREADMILL NOW! GO GO GO."

Reid obeyed reluctantly, muttering that nicknaming yourself 'the chief' indicated a severe narcissistic personality disorder.

Fifteen minutes later Morgan was forced to let Reid get off to nurse a stitch. He turned off the machine and Reid sat down on the end of it with his head between his knees, a panting, dishevelled mess. Hot, sweaty, flushed…

_Cool it soldier. _Morgan told himself with a smile.

"Sorry." Reid said when he'd got his breath back enough for speech. "I did warn you." He was looking at the floor with a zoned out kind of expression and his hair was sticking up a little.

Morgan crouched down in front of Reid so he had to look up at him. It reminded him so vividly of the way he'd looked at him that time when he'd messed up his firearm qualification exam and Morgan had gone and stuck a rape whistle round his neck. Like he knew he'd failed and was fully expecting to be mocked.

"You'll get there. Short bursts, that's how we'll do it." Morgan said reassuringly. Reid nodded looking doubtful, taking deep breaths to try and hide the fact that he was still panting.

"Can I ask what this is about?" Morgan asked gently.

"Nothing. I just want to be fitter, that's all." Reid said, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands on the back of his neck, looking at the floor.

"Okay sure. So why now?"

"Not every life decision I make is based around the fact that I was raped Morgan." Reid snapped, his voice dying a little on the word 'raped' even though they were in an empty gym and nobody could hear them.

It shocked him, as it had obviously been intended to. He didn't react though. He knew well by now that Reid always lashed out when he felt cornered.

"Of course not. I'm just saying that if that's on your mind then maybe you feel kind of helpless. Weak, even. So the obvious solution is to make yourself stronger, right?" Reid didn't reply. "Look Reid I'm all for learning self-defence but don't you think this is a little extreme? Look at me. I spend hours of my life in this gym getting stronger and _I_ couldn't stop it. In that situation I couldn't protect myself any more than you could. There was nothing you could have done Reid. It wasn't your fault."

"I know…" Reid said quietly after a while. "But he gets inside my head."

Morgan frowned. "Who?"

"Eric Faraday."

"You said he_ gets_ inside your head."

"Got inside."

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Morgan asked, putting his knees on the floor and leaning forward slightly to get a better look at Reid's face.

"You can't tell Hotch." Reid whispered pleadingly.

"I won't tell anybody." He promised. There would have been a time where he would have added an 'except if I think the information you disclose poses a risk to the team or violates the code I swore to uphold when I joined the FBI' clause in his head, but things weren't so black and white for him anymore where Reid was concerned. He knew his feelings were clouding his judgement, something he'd have looked down on in any other member of the team as selfish and unprofessional.

But fuck that, this was Reid.

"I said 'gets' because the hallucination of Eric Faraday has been living on my couch for the past week and a half." Reid confessed.

Wow.

Morgan raised his eyebrows and let out a breath, not knowing what to say.

"God that sounds even crazier when I say it out loud." Reid covered his eyes with his hands and laughed bitterly.

Morgan sat back on his haunches. Now it made sense, the permanent tiredness and dark circles, the lack of concentration and stubborn refusal to accept help. He'd suspected Reid was having symptoms again, but this was far worse than he'd imagined.

"You're not crazy. You know it's a hallucination so you're not delusional."

"Sometimes I forget. I talk to him and it's like he's there." Reid admitted, "I can even _feel_ it when he touches me." He said, closing his eyes and grimacing.

"Touches you?" Morgan asked softly, his voice breaking up a little.

"No. Don't." Reid shook his head. "Don't ask."

"Okay." Morgan said, his voice shaking.

"Still think I'm not crazy?" Reid whispered.

"It's going to be okay. We'll get you some help." Morgan promised, because it was all his shell-shocked mind could think of to say.

"It's not going to be okay!" Reid snapped. "God, you don't get it do you? I'm a schizophrenic! There is no help! Do you know what will happen to me if anybody finds out? The FBI does not employ people being treated for psychotic mental illnesses!" his eyes welled up and he started breathing rapidly again. "You know, for the first time in my life I'm actually part of something, I'm happy here. Do you know how long it's taken me to find somewhere I felt comfortable, where I felt like I belonged? My entire life! That's how long! I finally have people around me who make me feel…wanted. Like I'm worth something, like I'm more than just a human computer. This job is my whole life, and this team is the only real family I've got left. Walking away from you guys is going to be like…I don't know, like losing my leg or something."

Morgan put a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon kid, you know we would never abandon you just because you weren't in the FBI anymore."

"No but it won't be the same will it? I won't be part of things like I am now. You'd all make the effort to see me at first, but Hotch barely sees his son as it is, Garcia's got Kevin, JJ's got a family, and when was the last time anybody managed an uninterrupted weekend? Eventually I'll just be a…vague shadow of guilt in your minds like my mother is in mine." He said desolately and rubbed the tears away with the heel of his hand, and he looked so gut wrenchingly sad and Morgan loved him so, so much, and nothing seemed to matter anymore except that.

So he kissed him, fiercely. Half tackled him actually, pinning the genius onto his back on the treadmill underneath him. Reid made a small surprised noise, lifted his lower body up against Morgan's, grabbed the front of his T-shirt and kissed him back like his mouth was the new oxygen.

Morgan broke away, looked into Reid's eyes and said frantically;

"Not with me. Not ever. Do you understand me?"

And Reid gave him the biggest, brightest smile in the world and threw his arms around his neck. He smelled like sweat and deodorant and gym and hugged Morgan like a python, like Morgan had never seen him hug anybody before.

"I knew you were looking at my ass before!" Reid said happily into Morgan's neck. He laughed.

His post-workout testosterone-filled brain was screaming at his conscience to take Reid home and get him naked, but he couldn't shake the guilt, the feeling that something was wrong. He didn't want his first night with Reid to be based on that feeling.

After a few seconds he unhooked himself with an apologetic look and stood up, pressing his palms to his temples as he remembered all the reasons he shouldn't be kissing Reid right then (including but not limited to the fact that they were at work and there was CCTV in the gym.)

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." He said, backing away.

Reid got to his feet and ran after him, grabbing his wrists to make him stay.

"What? What are you talking about? I've been wishing you'd do that for weeks! I'd given up! You have no idea how happy I am that you-" he stopped himself, realising he was babbling a little and looked into Morgan's eyes anxiously. "Please…" he finished in a whisper, his eyes prickled with disappointed tears.

"No, look you don't understand…after what we've been through…this is _wrong_ Reid. You don't know if what you're feeling is real or not and I'm taking advantage of that, of _you_." Morgan struggled to explain concepts that had seemed so solid before he had Reid's hot and sweaty body pressed up against his own, those honeyed-hazel eyes that made him weak and nervous and brave all at the same time fixed on his.

Reid laughed softly and pressed his forehead against Morgan's, suddenly bold.

"Then how about we take advantage of one another?" he murmured, looking up through his eyelashes into Morgan's eyes, and caressing the side of his face with one hand.

Morgan closed his eyes, tried to hold on until he had time to think…but with Reid so eager and ready in his arms all he could think about was how much he wanted this, how long he'd waited and how he'd feel if he let this chance slip away from him again.

He nodded. Reid smiled and took his hand. "Race you to the changing room chief." He teased and ran, (miraculously no longer out of breath) towards the changing room, tugging Morgan along by the hand (though admittedly not much force was required).

As soon as they got there Morgan went to take his shirt off but Reid stopped him.

"What are you doing?"

Morgan looked at him in confusion. "Uh…taking a shower?"

"No you're not." Reid told him, throwing Morgan his gym bag. "We can shower when we get to your place." He said. Morgan raised his eyebrows, slightly amused (and slightly turned on) by his forwardness.

Reid smiled sheepishly. "Oh right…I didn't actually ask you yet."

Morgan chuckled. He dropped the gym bag at his feet as Reid came up close to him, nudging him back against a wall of lockers. "I want to come back to your place with you. Is that okay?" Reid asked with a smile.

"Now? Really? Are you sure?" Morgan asked softly, his heart thumping crazily.

Reid nodded. Morgan threaded his fingers through Reid's and brought his hands up to his chest.

"You don't have to. I mean…just because I sleep around…doesn't mean I'm expecting it from you, you know that right?"

Reid gave an embarrassed laugh and looked down, avoiding his eyes.

"I know." he said. "I want to."

He trapped Morgan's hand between his own and bent his head to kiss the back of his fingers. Morgan put his arms around Reid's neck and held him tightly. Reid wrapped his arms up around Morgan's back, closed his eyes and let his head rest against Morgan's chest. He could hear Morgan's heartbeat, fast and excited, and in his head he said a quiet thank you to the organ for keeping Morgan alive, though he felt crazy doing it.

"I…" he started to say, but stopped himself with an embarrassed laugh.

"What?" Morgan released him and looked at him anxiously, checking for signs of doubt.

Reid shook his head. "Nothing." He said with a smile. "Come on or I might have to start…taking your clothes off. Right here." He threatened, still fighting back a self-conscious smile.

Morgan could feel how nervous Reid was, though he was trying to hide it by flirting with him. It made him feel less scared himself, more protective. They picked up their bags, Reid slipped on a grey zip-up hooded sweatshirt and they headed for the exit, holding hands loosely so they could break apart quickly if they came across anybody still in the building. Morgan couldn't stop thinking that this was a dream, too good to be true. Stuff never went this perfectly in real life.

Sometimes he really hated being right.

As they passed Garcia's office on the way to the lift Reid saw the light under the door.

"Is Garcia working late today?" he whispered to Morgan.

Morgan frowned and shook his head.

Reid pushed open the door silently and stepped inside, and Morgan followed him.

Prentiss, JJ and Garcia were there, crowded around a screen. They looked completely distraught and for a few seconds Morgan couldn't see why, until he looked at the screen and saw himself. And Reid.

In the Faraday brothers' basement.

Ridiculously his first response was just one of confusion, trying to figure out how in hell's name that video had reached this screen. He just stared, frozen in horror and shock, seeing himself undressing and getting onto the bed and pushing Reid down and kissing him. There was no audio but Morgan could remember every word.

Finally he turned his head to look at Reid.

He was standing rooted to the spot just like Morgan, his cheeks streaked all the way down with silent tears that wouldn't stop coming.

Prentiss looked over her shoulder and her eyes widened as she saw them standing there.

"Guys." she whispered to JJ and Garcia. She was crying too.

JJ and Garcia turned and looked horrified. Garcia scrambled to try and get rid of the video.

"No please," Reid laughed bitterly. "Don't let us spoil the party."

"Reid." Morgan said quietly.

"No, no," Reid laughed again, walking closer to the screen. "_Seriously, _did anybody bring any popcorn? I always get so hungry watching myself being _RAPED_ AT _GUNPOINT_ BY MY BEST FRIEND!" he screamed the last part. The women flinched and there was a horrible silence.

"I'm so sorry Reid…I didn't know…I wouldn't have…" Garcia stuttered through tears. "I thought I was helping."

For a moment Reid just stared at her like she was the most revolting thing he'd ever seen. Then almost too quickly for Morgan to intervene he swung his arm back to hit her.

Morgan stepped forward and caught his arm just in time. "COOL IT." He yelled at Reid.

"Let go of me!" he spat furiously, thrashing in his grip. Morgan grabbed his other arm and had to physically drag him off her. The way Reid looked at him then…like he'd betrayed him, it hurt like a knife stabbed a hundred times into his stomach and throat. He let go of Reid but made a point to stand in front of the three women.

Reid stood up straight, panting. He ran his fingers through his messed up hair and looked completely at a loss for what to say or do. In the end he just walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

Morgan let out a shaky breath.

"Thank you." Garcia said to him quietly, her voice trembling with shock.

Morgan turned around and looked down at her, sitting in her chair and crying, like she was a little kid who'd accidentally kicked a ball through a window, when in actual fact their actions had completely devastated a person's life and possibly set him back all the progress he'd made in these past few months, and forced them both to acknowledge something so unbearable it still made Morgan uncomfortable walking around on his own in the dark, made him unable to sleep without triple-checking every lock and keeping a gun next to the bed. Made him feel like a helpless kid all over again discovering how cruel and damaged the world could be with its Faradays and its Bufords, the kind of evil a lifetime of training couldn't save him from or let him forget, no matter how many of the bastards he put away.

It was something that should have been their decision, their secret to maybe or maybe not tell a long, long way down the line, when the scar tissue was thick enough to talk about it. Having it dragged up and replayed in front of them was like being raped all over again, but even worse because it was the people he trusted doing it to him this time, not some crazy psychopath with a gun.

And for the first time in his life, he _hated_ Penelope Garcia.

He leant over her and said quietly;

"Don't think for a second that I stopped him for your sake."

She looked so hurt and ashamed, and though he would've been ashamed to admit it, he felt just a little bit better for hurting her.

Then he picked up his bag and went to find Reid.

...

Morgan ran to the elevator, stabbing the button repeatedly, but they were all occupied. He ran to the stairs instead, three, four at a time hurtling towards the bottom, adrenaline pounding through him but somehow he knew as soon as he started that he would be too late, that he'd already lost him. He ran out through the front entrance into the parking lot and scanned through the dark for any sign of Reid.

He tried to remember whether Reid had brought his car that day. He didn't think so, he was more likely to have taken the bus, so he ran out to the bus stop but Reid wasn't there either, so he ran back to the parking lot looking around desperately not knowing what to do. It was snowing and the cold burned his skin through the thin zip up hooded sweater he was wearing.

He went back into the building hoping there was a chance that Reid was still inside. He bumped into Hotch who was looking for him.

"They told me what happened, I'm so sorry you had to see that, I knew they were up to something, I should have stopped them." Hotch said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Reid ran off and I can't find him, you have to help me!" Morgan said urgently.

"Okay, okay slow down, we'll deal with him in a moment but you need to calm down."

"Calm down!? He's upset and he's out there on his own God knows what he's going to do!" Morgan snapped frustratedly.

"How much do you think you can help him running around blindly in the snow? You need to slow down and think about this."

Morgan just shook his head in disbelief and gave up, starting towards the exit. To his annoyance he found his way blocked by two security guards. One of them nodded to Hotch.

"Uh what's going on Hotch?" Morgan asked.

"Please Morgan, just come and sit down, we'll take care of this." Hotch said.

"What are you doing!? Why are you stopping me when I need to be out there looking for him!?" Morgan yelled. "You have no idea how much that tape has fucked everything up! God knows what he's feeling right now! He needs help! I have to find him!"

"You really don't understand why I don't want you running off into the night?" Hotch asked.

"Enlighten me." Morgan growled.

"Reid isn't the only one who saw that video Derek." Hotch said softly.

For a moment Morgan thought he was talking about the women and was about to bite his head off, before he realised Hotch was talking about him, and he shut his mouth.

"It was a traumatic experience for you as well, and it may not have hit you yet but when it does it will hit hard, and it puts you at risk."

He shook his head. "You don't…you don't get it, do you?" he grabbed Hotch's arm and pulled him out of earshot of the security guards and everyone else who had turned to stare at them. "All I care about is making sure Reid is safe, anything else I can deal with."

Hotch looked at him for a moment with his piercing stare.

"You're not going to like what I'm about to say to you Derek, but I'm going to say it anyway." He said grimly. "I've tried to stand back and let you figure things out at your own pace but you've fallen into this pattern time and time again and it's going to cripple you."

"What pattern?" Morgan snapped, conscious that they were wasting time.

"You rely on the fact that Reid needs you because if he needs you then you can push all your own emotions to one side and avoid dealing with them. I blame myself partly for this, I thought your recovery would be easier if you maintained your friendship but no relationship can function like this. It isn't fair on you and it isn't fair on him either."

It was all just words and it washed over him like rain. He nodded and cooperated and started walking with Hotch, but as he walked past a guard he turned and cracked an elbow into his face, and slipped through the gap when he staggered backwards clutching his nose. Hotch and the other guard made a grab for him but he had the advantage because they didn't want to hurt him and he didn't care.

He ran to his car and brushed snow off the windshield, chucked his bag onto the back seat and screeched out of the parking lot.

...

Reid pummelled the door with his fist, shaking uncontrollably from the shock and the cold. There were lights on and loud music playing but nobody was coming to the door. He yelled out and finally he heard the music being turned down, and the door opened.

"Ahh you must be Nurse Candy-Tits!" was a very inebriated Adam Young's greeting.

Reid blinked, unsure how to process that.

Young had two extremely buxom young women draped on his shoulders and was wearing a pink sparkly cowboy hat. All three persons at the door appeared to have drawn cat whiskers on each other's faces. The women were dressed in costumes relating with very shaky approximation to various medical professions. One had very long, straight blonde hair dyed neon pink at the tips, and was wearing a very low cut white PVC mini dress with red fishnet tights and a small white pointy nurse's hat with a red cross on it. The other was mixed race, with a mane of sleek black curls. She was wearing small horn rimmed glasses which he suspected were not prescription, and nothing else but a black leather miniskirt and the stethoscope around her bare shoulders.

Now on top of how he was feeling before, he was pretty damn annoyed. He had just come out of one of the most devastating things which had ever happened to him. So for this one moment in time the world could've at least had the common decency _not to be_ _fucking insane_. He stayed silent and processed the situation, hoping to gather some contextual point of reference which would point him towards the correct protocol.

"Oh, no wait, it's Spenssaaaar!" Young said happily, and turned to the dark haired woman. "He's a doctor like you!" he frowned at her. "Actually…I'm not sure you _are_ a doctor."

"I'm more of a doctor than you are." She laughed.

"Thisssus true." He nodded and slurred. "She's _very_ good."

"Who's this cutie Adam? Is he joining in? Did you hire him from the same place you hired us?" The blonde girl seemed to be having trouble following the vein of the conversation.

"My apologies ladies, how rude of me not to introduce you!" Young said loudly. "Dr Reid, please say hello to Dr Honey and Nurse Cherrylips, ladies, this is a friend of mine, Dr Spencer Reid."

"Um…pleasure to meet you." Reid said, feeling very out of his comfort zone.

The blonde girl still didn't get it. "Yeah but when you say friend…I mean it's cool if you want to spice things up but I think you have to check with the agency first..."

"He's not an escort okay!" Young shouted. "I do have _some_ friends I don't have to pay."

From the references to payment and the unusual prevalence of confectionary-themed names Reid was now pretty sure that these women were either strippers or hookers.

"Right, well um, I need to talk to you about getting a prescription." He said, scrabbling for purchase on this slippery slope of a social situation.

The girls turned to look at Young suspiciously.

"He's not an escort!" he protested. "Oh my _God_ things get confusing when a man with a PhD turns up to a game of doctors and nurses. Come in Reid."

Reid hesitated.

"We won't bite." The blonde woman purred coquettishly.

"No, you have to pay extra for that." Young laughed. "Prepare theatre one to receive the patient," he said pointing to his living room. "I'll be there shortly." He said to the women, taking the cowboy hat off his head and placing it on the head of the blonde.

He ushered Reid through to the kitchen. "So what brings you to my kingdom of sin this fine evening?"

"I can't really…I can't tell you why, but I have to leave. Right now." Reid said, massaging his forehead.

Young raised his eyebrows. "Like…as in a trip…or?"

"Permanently. At least for a while."

"Okay…where are you going to stay?"

"I don't know yet. Probably a hotel somewhere." Reid frowned, his mind racing. "Can I have some water please?"

"There's a bottle in the fridge, next to the IV-drip vodka ice-pops." Young said. "Does Morgan know you're going?"

Reid took the lid off the bottle and drank. He didn't reply.

"That'll be a no then."

"I'm not going to ask you to lie, but I will ask that you don't tell Morgan I was here until he asks. It's probably only a matter of time before they figure out I came here anyway, but I don't want to see anybody."

"Course." Young nodded. "So why are you here?"

Reid shrugged. "I don't know. I ran and couldn't think straight and I needed to talk to someone and you didn't totally suck as a shrink when you came over the other night so..."

"Thank you." Young chuckled, and then looked a little sad. "Do you really have to leave? Surely whatever it is, you can handle it without running away."

Reid shook his head. "I can't. I thought I could but I just can't stay here now..." he shook his head. "I just can't."

"Now what…?" Young frowned, and then understanding dawned. "Oh God, they all know don't they?"

Reid closed his eyes and let out a breath.

"How did they find out?"

"They got hold of the tape they made of us, I don't know how…" Reid rubbed the sides of his forehead with his fingers, digging them in. "I just walked in…and there it was, happening again." He covered his face with his hands.

Young held his palm against his own mouth for a moment, then stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder.

"So you're asking for an antipsychotic precription?" Young said. Reid nodded.

"I'm scared that I'm not acting rationally, that it's starting to take over already." he said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

"It's brave of you to admit that." Young smiled and squeezed his shoulder gently. "I don't think there's anything I can say to make this moment any less horrible for you, but assuming your symptoms are the same as before and your medical history hasn't changed, I can prescribe you Clozapine. I trust you to make the judgement yourself for whether or not you need it."

Reid nodded and folded his arms.

"I can also lend you one of my two very talented hookers to give you a proper send off if you'd like?" Young grinned, retrieving his prescription pad from under a stack of paper and rubbish littering the kitchen table.

Reid smiled. "No thank you."

"Nah I didn't think you would." Young grinned, scribbling his signature. "Now this is no replacement for a proper treatment programme, alright? This is just a mental patch-up job. The dose will need amending and you may get side effects, so get an appointment as soon as you get wherever you're going." He held out the piece of paper and Reid took it.

"Thanks." Reid said distractedly.

He picked up an empty medicine canister on the kitchen table which had caught his attention. By the time it occurred to him that he was possibly being rude he'd already seen the label.

"Coenzyme Q10." He murmured.

Young snatched it out of his hand. "Do you mind? That's personal."

"I'm sorry…you left it out on the table so I thought…"

"Yeah well maybe it's escaped your notice but I wasn't expecting company." Young snapped.

The pieces of the puzzle which had been bugging him finally slotted together in his mind. Rejecting a woman he clearly adored, his habit of bouncing and catching a ball which bordered on an obsessive compulsion. His abysmal coordination and now his severe depression, apparent in the obvious neglect of his living space, the bills going unpaid on the table while he indulged in binge drinking and sex with prostitutes.

"You're dying." Reid said, the words still not sinking in even as he said them.

Young laughed hollowly.

"Huntington's disease?" Reid said.

Young nodded.

"Q10…that's one of the clinical trials isn't it? It's supposed to slow the progression of neurodegeneration." Reid recalled from a medical journal he'd read a year ago.

"Yep. And it's shown fuck-all results so far apparently." Young replied sourly. "My motor-function's already starting to go. I'll gradually lose my marbles and I'll be lucky if I see 50 at this rate. There. You've solved your mystery. Now piss off and leave me to drink and whore myself into a mercifully early grave." He said, shoving Reid towards the front door.

"I'm sorry." Reid said. It sounded pathetically insincere and inadequate but he really was sorry.

"Don't be. I'm in the most capable of hands." Young smirked, gesturing to Dr Honey and Nurse Cherrylips. "These ladies take the meaning of palliative care to a whole new level."

Young opened the door and Reid stepped out. He stopped and turned back.

"Man, you really know how to steal a guy's thunder." He said to Young finally, dealing with the situation like Young dealt with _every_ situation, with inapproprate humor. It worked. Young laughed.

"Yeah. Sorry about that." He said. He leant on the doorframe and ran a hand through his hair. "And I'm sorry to be a jerk about it. It's not your fault."

"That's alright." Reid said. There was a heavy pause.

Young clapped him on the shoulder. "Look kid, I feel like the situation demands one of those ridiculous speeches where I pass on some helpful nugget of wisdom gained through my profound experience of pain, which you can remember to keep my memory alive when I'm thrashing and shitting myself in some hospice."

Reid waited.

"Thing is, and this may come as a shock to you, but I'm actually not coping very well." Young laughed wryly. "And having experienced a fair amount of it I can assure you that pain is never profound." He looked at the floor. "So I guess all I've got, is that I know…it seems like your world is ending right now, but I have every confidence you'll get through this. More than I have in myself anyway." He smiled weakly. "You've got your whole life ahead of you to squander and some of the moments you have left are bound to be good ones, so don't bail out until you know for sure. There. That was reasonably profound wasn't it?"

"It was beautiful." Reid laughed. "So do we have to hug now to cement our time-transcending bond of intergenerational wisdom, or…?"

"Don't be silly, I pay other people for that now." He grinned and turned back to call out to the escorts, "_Assemble please, my beautiful sidekicks!"_

They appeared beside him.

"Hug Dr Reid for me please girls." He said.

"Oh no…that really isn't necessary-" Reid blushed as he was sandwiched between two cushy walls of boob, and hair extensions. "Oh…okay then. Um…thank you."

"You can throw in a kiss or two as well, if you would be so kind." Young grinned, enjoying his discomfort. "Give it plenty of lipstick!"

They planted noisy kisses all over his face until he was covered in red lipstick marks, though he was so red himself they hardly showed up.

"Okay put him down now ladies, you're making me jealous." Young said.

"Aww shame. I like you." Dr Honey whispered to Reid. She reached down between them and squeezed him where he wasn't expecting and he cried out in surprise.

"AhhAAH! Did she just…uh…?" Reid asked Young as she blew him a kiss and followed Nurse Cherrylips indoors.

"Isn't she wonderful!" Young laughed.

"Hmm." Reid said faintly. "I think…I'm going to go now."

"Alright." Young gave him a lazy salute. "It was a privilege Dr Reid."

"Likewise." Reid smiled. "Thank you for the help."

He turned and left, so flustered and disoriented that he walked in the wrong direction for five seconds before correcting himself and walking back the other way to his car which was packed and ready to go.

He got into his seat and sat with his eyes closed for a moment, letting the reality of what he was about to do hit him for the first time. The panic and fear he'd felt before seemed to have melted into a deep calm, like letting go of something he'd been fighting for far too long and hard to hold onto. Letting go of the person he'd been before and allowing something new to take its place. It wasn't about running away anymore. For once he had to put his own needs first, and something told him he had to be alone for that to happen.

He'd never felt this free in his life, always tied to his studies and his job, using his intellect to shield himself from uncomfortable emotions. It was a strange feeling having no direction, no order, no plan except driving through the moonlight listening to music, and getting as far away as he could from where he was now. But it was exciting too.

He picked up the photo he'd stuck to the dashboard with tape, the one of him with the team gathered around the cake on his birthday. He was in the middle, JJ's arm around his waist, Morgan ruffling his hair, Elle smiling behind him, Hotch, not smiling next to her, Garcia trying to sneak the birthday cake-hat onto Gideon's head. It was his favourite photo, aside from the fact it didn't have Emily or Rossi in it. Looking at Morgan's face now made him almost change his mind about leaving.

He put the picture in the glove compartment and shut it.

Almost.

Because of the thousand times he must have looked this photo, he'd never realised until now that Morgan was looking at him like he was his favourite person in the room.

...

When Morgan got to Reid's apartment the door was unlocked and the apartment was silent, and he knew straight away that he'd arrived too late. Again.

He walked into the dim living room without turning the lights on. There was Reid's badge and gun on the coffee table, along with a white envelope. Just like Gideon had left his for Reid.

He sat down heavily on the couch, unable to absorb the fact that Reid was gone. He wanted to cry but he couldn't. He felt hollowed out with pain and anger.

_How could you do this to me?_

He didn't know how long he sat there in the dark room before Hotch arrived and turned the light on. He heard the man sigh but he didn't turn around. Hotch sat down on the couch next to him carefully, as if worried it would upset him.

"He's gone." Morgan said hoarsely, stating the obvious more for his own benefit than for Hotch.

There was a long silence. Morgan rested his chin on his hands.

"What's in the envelope?" Hotch asked.

Morgan shrugged. Hotch picked it up and opened it. He read it and then said what Morgan already knew.

"His letter of resignation."

Morgan nodded, kept on nodding, and then he was standing up and shouting. Shouting at Hotch for what he'd done by holding him back and stopping him from catching Reid before he left, shouting at Hotch for what Prentiss, JJ and Garcia had done, shouting at Hotch for what Reid had done, just upping and leaving without even saying goodbye to him.

All in all Hotch got a very raw deal. But he stayed there with him for hours, listening and reasoning him out of his fury.

Then when he ran out of steam Hotch drove him home.

...

**THE END.**

**LOL, no, kidding xD I wouldn't do that to you.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Song for this chapter: My World~ Sick Puppies**

Hotch called a babysitter for Jack and stayed over at Morgan's that night, not wanting him to be alone. Morgan was too shattered to argue. He was on the couch pretending to sleep when Garcia dropped off Hotch's spare go-bag around midnight.

"How is he?" he heard her whisper out in the hall. Hotch's voice was too low-pitched for his ears to catch his reply beyond "Murr muur mrrmrmr resting, mrrrmrrr mr mrrr mrrr tomorrow."

"Okay. Is it true what JJ said? Has Reid really resigned?"

There was a grumble in the affirmative.

"Because of me?" she asked emotionally.

_Yes._ Morgan thought spitefully.

"You humhurr yourself. The situation murr mrm hurr already. Murr murr you were murr hoomur mrrhng mruh help." Hotch mumbled comfortingly.

His ears got tired at this point, and he was still too angry to listen to her whining about how guilty she felt, so he let himself doze until Hotch came back into the room. He cracked his eyes open and watched Hotch as he got changed into bed clothes while simultaneously emailing people from his phone. Morgan guessed he had a lot of extra stuff to sort out since Reid wouldn't be able to work out his notice.

Hotch brushed his teeth and went to Morgan's room to get his pillow and quilt and an extra blanket for himself. He put the quilt over Morgan and nudged his arm to rouse him enough to lift his head, then slipped the pillow underneath it. Morgan mumbled thanks, feeling like a little kid, and Hotch sat down in the armchair next to him in a grey-blue T-shirt and loose blue cotton shorts and started typing on his laptop. He watched Hotch for a long time, finding it strange seeing the older man out of a suit (and in his apartment).

The dim lighting and the sound of typing made him feel a strange, shallow level of calm, like being in the eye of a storm. The horrible feelings were still there but it was like they were muted or on hold. After a while Hotch looked up and saw that Morgan was awake.

"Hey." He said. "Am I disturbing you?"

Morgan shook his head. "What're you doing?" he asked quietly.

"Just finishing some things I was meant to work on for tomorrow." Hotch said. "I won't enter Reid's resignation onto the system yet, I'm going to leave it for a few days in case he changes his mind once he's had a chance to think about it."

"So you think he'll be back pretty soon?" Morgan asked hopefully, propping himself up on his elbows.

Hotch hesitated for a second, then sighed. "I really wish I could say yes Derek. But I think Reid knows what he's doing. He's not exactly the type to make rash decisions without thinking it through. I wouldn't get my hopes up."

The hurt came back again, throbbing in his head and squeezing around his chest and bringing a lump to his throat.

He shook his head firmly. "I think you're wrong. He'll be back soon. I know him. He was just telling me how he couldn't bear it if he had to leave us! This job is part of him. He can't run away from himself. He's going to realise that soon."

Hotch smiled sadly. "I hope you're right." He said.

Morgan nodded and looked up at the ceiling. "This is just a mistake. He was upset." He said.

Hotch didn't reply, since it was quite clear to both of them at this point that he wasn't the one Morgan was trying to convince anymore. They didn't speak again after that. Morgan lay there awake most of the night, long after Hotch dozed off in his chair with his hand propping up his chin and his elbow on the arm.

...

The next morning Hotch had to go to work, but he called Young to come and look after Morgan. Morgan was still on the couch wrapped in his quilt watching TV when Young rang the doorbell.

He heaved himself onto his feet and opened the door.

"Hey." Young greeted him gently.

Morgan stood back and jerked his head in a way that meant 'come in.' Young did so, and Morgan went to the kitchen to make them both a coffee. Young followed him and sat on one of the counters.

Morgan got part way through scooping the coffee into the machine before he felt an overwhelming sense of absurd pointlessness in going through the motions of normal activity for Young's benefit. He felt like a tree which had just been uprooted and ripped from the earth, and Young knew perfectly well that that was how he felt. He probably didn't even want the damned coffee, only let Morgan carry out this stupid meaningless task because he wanted him to deal with it however he felt was best. He hated that so much. He stopped what he was doing.

Young cocked his head to one side. "You okay?"

"I don't want this." Morgan muttered.

"The coffee?"

Morgan grimaced and shook his head and pressed the heels of his hands against his temples.

"I just…I can't believe he'd just go like that without talking to me about it, without talking to _anyone_. Not even a phone call! A text! Just to let me know he's okay! I know I should be more worried about his mental state and his safety, and I _am_ worried. I'm scared as hell something will happen and I'll never see him again. But…" his voice died to a whisper and he looked down at the floor. "…all I keep thinking is how could he leave me?"

"I don't think…that it's a decision he would have come to lightly." Young said carefully. He took his ball out of his pocket and rolled it around in his hands. "What happened exactly? I'm a little sketchy on the details."

Morgan folded his arms and leant back on the counter.

"Prentiss, JJ and Garcia got hold of the video camera from the Faraday case, and they retrieved the deleted footage of what happened. Me and Reid walked in as they were playing it. Reid totally freaked out and ran away."

"Yeah that's the version Hotch gave me." Young said. "I get the feeling there's more to it though. Like why you and Reid were in the office so late."

Morgan hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "He came to me and we talked about his condition, what it would mean for him if he got the diagnosis. He got upset, thinking he'd be kicked out of the FBI. He thought he'd get phased out of our lives as well." He was silent for a few moments before finally admitting, "I kissed him." He looked down, the pain evident on his face.

Young waited.

"He…he said he wanted to come back to mine." Morgan said, with difficulty as he couldn't seem to breathe properly. "That's where we were going before we looked in on Garcia."

Young clunked his head back against a wall-mounted cupboard and looked up at the ceiling for a second.

"I'm so sorry." He said softly.

Morgan was too worked up to question why Young was apologising.

"You see what I mean now though right? How could he leave without telling me when we'd just started something? Didn't it even occur to him how that would make me feel?" he said heatedly.

"Of course it did." Young said matter-of-factly, looking down. "Even disregarding the fact that the kid was head over heels in love with you, you were like family to him. He would never abandon you unless he was absolutely desperate."

"But we were supposed to stick together!" Morgan said. "I woulda helped him through anything. I would have even gone with him if he'd asked!"

"Maybe he doesn't want you to help him." Young said. "Maybe he feels that being alone is the easiest way to work through his emotions, and he probably knew that if he went to you and tried to tell you that, he'd never be able to go through with it. Either you'd talk him out of it, or he'd talk himself out of it because leaving you was too hard."

"He hates being alone!" Morgan snapped. "He's going to be miserable without his family around him, just because he's too stubborn to accept that he can't run away from what happened, because getting away from the people who know about it won't make it any less real."

"You really think he's being stubborn?" Young asked, raising his eyebrows.

Morgan was speechless for a moment. Then he covered his face with his hands and let out a frustrated growl.

"_No_. Of course not." he sighed. "I understand how he feels. Better than anybody. Better than _him_. I've been through this before, and I _so_ wanted to make it not true. I kept that secret…_festering_ in my heart my whole life, I let him do it to God knows how many kids, just so I could pretend he didn't…pretend _I_ didn't…do those things with him. I didn't mean to sound heartless. It's just…"

"Yeah I know." Young nodded. "That's why I corrected you. Don't beat yourself up about it. Misplaced or irrational anger is normal in a situation like this. You heard of the five stages of grief right? Denial, anger, depression, bargaining and acceptance?"

"Reid isn't dead." Morgan pointed out.

"For all intents and purposes he is. The prolonged absence of a loved one produces the same feelings as a death. It's still a grieving process."

Morgan shook his head. "You make it sound like he's not coming back."

Young hesitated. "I didn't mean to imply that. Sorry. Out of interest how long were you thinking he'd be gone?"

"I don't know, a week? A month?" Morgan said, distressed again. "Why? How long did you think it'd be?"

"Hard to say." Young said uncomfortably. "But he resigned from his job. That seems to suggest he needs more time to fix himself than compassionate leave can supply."

Morgan hadn't thought of that. He gripped the edge of the counter behind him.

"Wait…so before was your reaction to thinking he'd be gone for a _week_?" Young asked.

Morgan shrugged.

Young raised his eyebrows. "I hate to say this but perhaps this is a good thing for you. You need to be able to function as an individual. Letting your entire happiness depend on one person is like putting all your eggs in one basket, except instead of a basket you're putting them right on the edge of a skyscraper. In the middle of an earthquake."

There was a short silence. Young looked slightly wary, expecting Morgan to get angry and defensive. But that didn't happen.

"I know." Morgan said finally in a tired voice. "I know that it's not healthy. I've been fixated on him for so long, it's almost an obsession. I wish I understood why, but sometimes…I think…that I'd rather not know."

Young raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised you recognised it. People in love are usually the least psychologically self-aware." He crossed his feet, swinging his legs a little. "It's especially brave of you to admit that by the way. You're going to need that bravery a lot if we're going to fix you."

Morgan gave a weak smile. "I'm not sure how that's brave. But thanks I guess."

"I have a theory by the way. About why you're so passionately obsessed with Reid. And it's nothing creepy or sinister, don't worry. Would you like to hear it?"

Morgan shrugged. "Shoot."

"There are two contributing factors. Firstly, his innocence attracts you because your formative sexual experience was that of being controlled and dominated and betrayed by a person you trusted and admired. It also stuck the idea in your mind of sex being something shameful and unhealthy. The fact that Reid lived his life totally separate from any sexual impulse was something you envied and idealised."

Morgan grimaced and nodded. "Right." He said, feeling ashamed. "And the second factor?"

"You also happen to be in love with him." Young stated, chuckling.

"You think…genuinely?" Morgan asked anxiously. "This isn't just some kind of twisted Madonna and the Whore Complex?"

"If it were just that then you would have lost your affection and respect for him when he showed sexual interest in you." Young pointed out. "Did you?"

Morgan hesitated. "No." he said finally. "If anything it made me love him even more, that he was willing to try an intimate relationship with me when it makes him so uncomfortable. But I felt something. In my gut. I felt…uneasy. That's why I refused him initially."

"Interesting." Young said. "What do you think you were feeling?"

Morgan shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I just felt that it would be wrong of me to let it happen."

"Because of what we discussed? That Reid could be confused about his sexuality because of the rape?"

"Yeah. I was scared he'd end up regretting it. But he told me over and over that he wasn't confused, that he didn't feel pressured."

"Did you believe him?"

"I did at the time. Or I wanted to. But then he left…and now I'm starting to think…like maybe he realised he made a mistake. When he saw that video maybe it clarified it for him, and he realised he could never love somebody who…who did that to him." Morgan looked down and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "And I know you're going to tell me it's not my fault, and Reid doesn't blame me, but there's something you don't know."

"What is it?"

"The night you locked us in together and we got into that fight, he said something…" Morgan frowned.

"What?" Young prompted when he didn't continue.

"Sorry it's just…it's hard to um…hard to talk about it." Morgan shifted uncomfortably. "He said…about how Eric told me to…um…to fuck him? And that I did it. Fucked him I mean. And you shoulda heard him y'know? It was like he hated me for it. I asked him if he believed me that I had to do it but he didn't reply. And later on he told me he didn't mean it, that he didn't blame me, he was just drunk and angry and he wanted to hurt me. So I let it go. But now I'm thinking…what if that was the only time he's ever been honest with me? With himself? What if he only realised when he saw that video, that secretly he blames me?"

Young thought for a moment.

"I think Reid has probably been feeling a lot of things lately. Feelings aren't always rational." He replied finally, in a cautious tone.

Morgan nodded, clenching his jaw.

"But I also think it's probably very unhelpful to speculate on what Reid is feeling." Young said.

There was a long silence.

"I don't think it was that." Morgan frowned.

"Come again?" Young asked.

"The bad feeling I had about us having sex. I almost _wanted_ to think it was because I was taking advantage of Reid's vulnerability that it felt wrong, because that would be simpler and easier to fix. I can't explain why…I just…I feel like the reasons I came up with were too weak for such a strong feeling. They were more like excuses I made to justify the feeling that was already there. Does that make any sense at all?" He asked.

Young nodded. "It does. I got the same impression, that the feeling you had was deeper than just wanting to protect Reid from the regret and to protect yourself from rejection. Like it was more to do with you and your core beliefs about sex where love is involved."

"You think that because I associate sex with the shame of being abused…that I can't have sex with somebody I'm in love with without feeling guilty?" Morgan tried to follow the psychologist's reasoning.

"Seems that way. Wow, best excuse for not calling a girl afterwards I've ever heard." Young laughed.

Morgan smiled.

"Hey look at that!" Young grinned. "Your facial muscles still work when Reid isn't present."

Morgan smiled again and shook his head.

Young continued, "But going back to the point I just made, I don't think that the abuse is the whole story for what you're going through right now, I think it's tied together with a whole lot of other crap, past and present, that we need to untangle. And I want you to know that I don't think you'll always have that guilt, I think that's something I can help you resolve."

Morgan looked down. "That's great but uh…I don't know if I have it in me to untangle anything right now. I feel so…" it was a while before he could finish the sentence. "…like something really, really bad is about to come crashing down on my shoulders, y'know? And I can't stop it and I can't get out of the way." He turned to look out of the window, so he had his back to Young. "I think maybe Hotch was right. I've been ignoring everything for so long…and I didn't even realise that that's what I was doing. I don't know how to face this. Any of it. And I'm so, _so_ angry, I feel like..." he stopped. "Ugh. This isn't helping. I'm just whining now. I'm sorry. I swear I've never used the phrase 'and I feel like' so much in my whole life."

"Which is a perfect example of why you're so emotionally crippled right now." Young pointed out.

"Thanks." Morgan said with a wry smile.

"You're welcome." Young said. "Have you eaten?"

Morgan shook his head.

Young hopped off the counter, went to his fridge and opened it. He made a 'hmmm' noise and then a tutting noise, like a world class chef unhappy with his ingredients.

"It's okay. I normally just have cereal or something." Morgan said, wary of letting Young loose in his kitchen.

"Well normally your best friend hasn't just walked out on you." Young said cheerfully.

"I'd really rather just…I don't know. Sit down with a coffee and talk some more." Morgan admitted.

Young started melting butter in a pan.

Morgan continued. "I just wish I could have seen him one last time before he went. Not even to stop him, just…so I could say goodbye, so I could ask him if he was ever coming back, and ask him if he needed anything. So I could have seen for myself what kind of state he was in when he decided to go. All the uncertainty and 'what if's are doing my head in. What if I'd run out and caught him straight away, what if I'd shaken Hotch and the guard sooner? What if I'd-"

"-You know, actually I think what you need now is a distraction." Young said quickly. "Talking about that again isn't going to help. You need to accept that you can't change what happened."

Morgan looked taken aback. "I guess." He said numbly. It hit him all over again that Reid was really gone.

While he was silent Young poured oil into a frying pan and heated it up, cracked eggs into the food processor and poured milk, melted butter, flour, baking powder, salt, sugar and a few drops of vanilla essence into it as well. He then poured the mixture into three small blobs on the pan and turned the pan so the handle was facing Morgan, and then let go of it, indicating that he should take over flipping duty.

Morgan was still too consumed with apathy to protest, so he took the pan and the spatula and turned the pancakes after around a minute. Meanwhile Young had found a container of blueberries and raspberries in the fridge and emptied them into a saucepan. Morgan watched with interest as he coated the berries in sugar and turned up the heat.

"What are you doing to those poor berries?" he asked.

"I am making a compote. Maple syrup is far too pedestrian for a man of my taste." Young said snootily, ostentatiously tasting his concoction off the spoon. He looked at Morgan who had raised his eyebrows. "What? You didn't think I could cook?"

Morgan shrugged. "No, not really."

"Well get out of my way and allow me to prove you wrong." Young glared.

He elbowed Morgan out the way, tipped the pancakes onto a plate and poured the compote on top. He squirted it with whipped cream from a can, then placed the dish on the table and rifled through Morgan's drawers to find him a knife and fork.

Morgan sat down and started eating. It was pretty good. Very good actually.

"Admit it. That is the finest plate of pancakes you have ever had the privilege to taste." Young said smugly, sitting down opposite him.

Morgan nodded. Then he frowned.

"What is this?"

"I told you, it's a compote." Young said innocently.

"Not the fruit, this." Morgan put his knife and fork down. "You, making me breakfast, trying to distract me from how I'm feeling when you normally whack me over the head with reality and refuse to let me ignore it. It's all wrong."

"Sheesh. Ever heard of not looking a gift horse in the mouth?" Young muttered.

"Why? Why have you done this?" Morgan snapped.

Young was silent for a moment, looking uncomfortable.

"Because I think you may be initially upset when you hear what I'm about to tell you." He admitted. "But I hope you'll come to see things from my perspective and realise that I really had no choice in the matter."

"What?" Morgan narrowed his eyes.

"When you said it wasn't like Reid to leave without telling anyone…well Reid didn't exactly leave without telling _anyone_." Young said meaningfully.

There was a heavy silence.

"He came to you?" Morgan asked quietly.

"Yeah." Young looked down at the table. "He came to my house."

"And you just let him leave? Without even trying to convince him to stay!?" Morgan slammed his hand down onto the table, making the silverware rattle.

"I talked it through with him, I saw that he had made an informed and rational decision, and though it was difficult to see him go, I didn't feel that it was my place to interfere with-"

"Bullshit!" Morgan spat. "You meddle with things that aren't your place all the _fucking_ time! If you weren't willing to talk some sense into him then you should have at least called me so I could!"

"He came to see me in the capacity of patient and doctor. He asked me not to tell you until he was free and clean away. He has the right to confidentiality, just like you would if the situation was the other way round." Young explained, but Morgan wasn't in the mood to hear it.

"I've just spent the past half hour spilling my fucking _guts_ out to you, you lying motherfucking _son of a bitch_!" Morgan yelled in his face, picking up the pancakes and throwing them at him. "HOW COULD YOU LET ME DO THAT, AND THEN JUST CASUALLY DROP INTO THE CONVERSATION, 'OH AND BY THE WAY I JUST SCREWED YOUR ASS TO HELL'?"

Young looked wrong footed, and there was pancake stuck to his hair in a way that they both would have found hilarious had the situation not suddenly become the opposite of funny.

"You needed to talk…I was trying to help. I'm sorry, I should have come clean straight away."

"You think!?" Morgan asked sarcastically.

Young looked upset. "I'm sorry."

"I trusted you!" Morgan laughed bitterly. "Reid told me what you were like but I _so_ needed somebody to help me. And like an idiot I let myself believe you could be that person."

Young opened his mouth but Morgan wouldn't let him speak.

"Do you know how hard that is, to trust somebody with all the dark, fucked up shit in your head!? But you got me to do it anyway didn't you? Well congratulations man, you win! I fell for it. I really thought we were friends. But I guess you'd have told me anything, kept _anything_ from me to get me to talk, wouldn't you? All so you could prove to everybody what a smart, special little clever-clogs you are before you kick me to the curb just like Prentiss!" he said venomously.

"Please Derek, I would never-"

"Get out." Morgan said sourly.

Young didn't move. "Look, I made a mistake! I really didn't think you'd be so mad about-"

"Get the fuck out of here now, or I am going to ram the rest of your fucking pancakes down your throat." Morgan stated matter-of-factly. Young held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"Oh, and since I'm apparently also entitled to this wonderful patient confidentiality, you are to tell Hotch nothing of the conversation we just had. You will tell nobody anything about what I am feeling. Anybody asks, you stayed with me all day and we talked and you guided me expertly through the grieving process and now I am fine. Absolutely fine and fucking dandy, you understand?" Morgan said aggressively.

Young clenched his jaw and nodded. He walked to the front door and just before he closed it behind him he turned and said sarcastically;

"Derek Morgan denying his feelings and pushing away the people who try to help him. My goodness what a plot twist. Never saw that coming."

"Go fuck yourself." Was his reply.

...

The silence after Young left was crushing. Desperation crept up on him slowly until he could hardly breathe.

He decided to go for a work out in the hope it might reduce his stress. His apartment complex had a small crappy-but-cheap gym which was really just a small room with an old weight bench and treadmill. He ran on the treadmill and lifted weights to try to burn off his anger, until he was exhausted and his muscles burned. It took a pretty long time since he was very fit, so it was past midday by the time he'd tired himself out, and he was soaked in sweat.

The endorphins helped calm him down for a while, but they quickly faded.

He wanted to get out of his apartment, but he didn't know where to go. He took a shower, shaved and put on deodorant. He changed into a soft long-sleeved black T-shirt and some tight washed out jeans with a black leather jacket and some mirrored sunglasses (his tall, dark and mysterious FBI agent outfit). He grabbed his keys and his phone and his wallet and left his apartment building.

The feeling of fear still clung to him when he was outside in the busy street. He started walking mainly to avoid the people who were bumping into him. He caught sight of a liquor store and his feet carried him inside. He grabbed a litre bottle of Jack Daniels and paid the cashier.

He found a dry bench in a rare patch of winter sun. It struck him suddenly looking at the window displays of the shops, that there was only a week left until Christmas. He always went to visit his Mom and sisters on Christmas day, but it would be the first Christmas BAU dinner party in five years he would spend not sitting next to Reid.

That had always been the part of Christmas he'd looked forward to the most. That and giving Reid his present, seeing him look so surprised and delighted every time that Morgan had given him such a personalised, thoughtful gift (usually bought several months in advance). Reid got very excited about Christmas (almost as excited as Garcia) and was eager to join in every party, event or tradition he could, often talking their ears off about the history of various Christmas customs. It was very cute, kind of like he was a little kid again, Morgan guessed because when he _was_ a kid he'd spent so many Christmases reading in his room, or with just his mother, who wasn't well enough to make it special for him. It made Morgan feel so happy and warm and Christmassy seeing Reid take so much joy from the occasion.

He kicked at a patch of half-melted snow in front of the bench. If he couldn't spend Christmas with Reid he didn't want Christmas to come at all. He wished he could just hide until it was all over. He wished he didn't exist.

He unscrewed the lid of the bottle and took a large gulp. It burned down his throat and made him feel a little light headed and queasy since he hadn't eaten anything yet. But it did its job. The gnawing, restless anxiety and fear went away, to be replaced with depression, sorrow and self-pity. He walked around getting drunker and drunker, wishing the bars would open so he wouldn't look so much like an alcoholic.

At around 2 pm he wanted something to eat, so he headed to the closest restaurant and walked inside.

"Table for one please." He said to the maître-d, a chubby young man with receding, wispy ginger hair.

He saw the half empty bottle of JD in Morgan's hand and puffed up self-importantly.

"I'm thorry thir you can't dwink that in here." He spoke with a lisp _and_ mispronounced his 'r's.

"Excuse me?" Morgan raised an eyebrow and squared his shoulders.

"Cuthtomers can't drink beverages purchathed outthide the pwemises."

"Really?" Morgan asked in amusement, unscrewing the top and taking a swig. "Oops, looks like I just did."

"Sir, are you dwunk?" the guy played what he obviously believed to be his trump card given the smug look of superiority on his piggy little face, obviously expecting Morgan to be shamed by the accusation.

Morgan just laughed and decided to embrace his drunkenness. He gave an exaggerated shrug. "Oh man you _are_ a smart fellow aren't you? What an excellent deduction. Yes I am drunk, and I would be getting even drunker on your finest ale if it weren't for your _perplexing_ attempts to discourage me from entering this good establishment. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there a famous saying in your trade, that 'the customer is always right?'"

"I think you should go home and thober up now." The man said, blushing and getting flustered as he realised that his grasp on the situation was tenuous at best, and that if Morgan really wanted to enter the restaurant there wasn't much he could do about it.

Morgan knew the guy was only trying to do his job, that he was being ridiculous and he should just get rid of the stupid bottle which he didn't even want any more. But suddenly he was fired up and angry again, and the prospect of conflict excited him.

So that was how he found himself arguing eloquently with this officious little twat for five minutes about why it was his civil right to drink his own damn Jack wherever he damn well pleased. He even cited his constitutional rights at one point. Some of the customers turned to watch, some looking appalled, most looking amused and some looking like they wanted to cheer him on. He played up to the audience with dramatic hand gestures and a passionate motivational tone of voice, suddenly a revolutionary trying to drum up support for his noble cause.

The man looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel and threatened to call the police and Morgan laughed even harder and was stupidly about to pull out his FBI badge (and probably ruin his career) when a vaguely familiar looking tall blonde guy came over to see what was going on.

"It's okay Damian, I got this." He said pleasantly, patting him on the back. Damian scowled and trotted back to lurk behind his reservations desk.

"Derek Morgan right?" the man said with a charming smile, holding out a hand. He had nice blue eyes. "Sean. Sean Hotchner, Aaron's brother. I think we met briefly once when I visited him?"

Morgan shook his hand. Now he remembered. This was 'Gorgeous Sean' the man who had breezed in and out of the office in fifteen minutes to visit his brother and had lit a fire in the loins of every single woman in the place. He'd even briefly managed to entice Garcia's attention away from Morgan. Not that he could blame her, he thought with a smile. To tell the truth he himself had had a little imaginary playtime with Sean in the shower for a few times after.

"Yeah I remember. Hey, how's it going? I thought you worked in New York now?" he said, flashing Sean a rather dashing smile of his own.

"Yeah I did for a couple of years, loved it there. But six months ago I got offered a position here as head chef and I couldn't turn down a promotion like that."

"That's great!" Morgan said. "Congratulations man."

"Yeah, thank you." Sean smiled. "Here, come have a drink with me. I could use the company."

"I think I've drunk a little too much to be honest with you." Morgan admitted.

"Oh dear." Sean laughed sympathetically. "Well I'm technically not working today so come into the kitchen and I'll get you a coffee, and then let me see what I can rustle up for you in terms of some lunch. Sound alright?"

"Sounds fantastic." Morgan nodded. "Thanks Sean."

He followed the chef to a small corner of the frantic, busy kitchen. As promised Sean made him coffee and a spinach, goats cheese and walnut risotto. Although it wasn't the kind of thing he normally ordered, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed Sean's company as well. It let him temporarily block out how much he missed Reid.

"So how come you're not working today?" he asked.

Sean gave an awkward smile. "I uh…I'm meant to be on my honeymoon."

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "Oh man I'm sorry! What happened?"

"I don't know. She changed her mind the night before the wedding. She called me up and said she didn't love me anymore." Sean said, sounding depressed. He made an obvious effort to lighten the mood, "So why are you drunk at three in the afternoon and shouting at my waiters instead of tackling the city's crime rates? Have you had your heart broken too?" he asked with a teasing smile. He had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled.

Morgan gave an awkward smile. "Actually yes."

Sean looked embarrassed, "Oh, sorry." He smiled. "Well you've come to the right place."

He reached up and picked a bottle wine off the shelf, and poured them both a glass.

"I certainly have." Morgan laughed. _Just one glass._ He thought. _I'm not really _that_ drunk anyway._

"So. Tell me what happened." Sean said. "We can commiserate each other, two spurned lovers together."

"Ah. Well. There's this guy…" Morgan said, eyeing Sean to see how he'd react. "From work."

Sean raised his eyebrows a little, and his gaze dropped away from Morgan's. Morgan noticed a slight colouring to his cheeks, but apart from this he seemed to take the revelation in his stride.

"Go on." He said, and topped up Morgan's glass.

And that's how he found himself spilling his love life out to a guy he barely knew, though of course he skipped past the detail of why Reid left. Sean was so understanding and easy to talk to. He somehow managed to say all the right things, made him feel better about himself just for a while. They sat down with the bottle of wine and when they finished it Sean casually invited him over to his place to watch a movie he'd been talking about which Morgan hadn't seen. He forgot the title but readily accepted the invitation, he was having such a good time that he probably would have gone anywhere to keep Sean there, making everything okay with wine and sympathy and subtly grazing his hand against Morgan's when he passed him the bottle, maybe accidentally but maybe not.

Sean's apartment was clean and minimalistic in its décor, his taste very similar to Morgan's. They never watched the movie. They sat side by side on the couch drinking and talking and as Sean got drunker he started to relax and get more confident.

"I think Reid is nuts for letting go of a great guy like you." He said to Morgan warmly. They were both slumped with their heads resting on the back of the couch, looking at each other with silly intoxicated smiles. Sean kept looking at his mouth. Morgan knew it was a terrible idea for him to stay when he was drunk and vulnerable to bad decisions, but he was so angry. With Reid, with the world, with everyone. Except Sean. Sean was on his side. Sean thought he was a great guy.

Morgan shifted position so his arm rested on the back of the couch, his hand resting just above Sean's head.

"Yeah? Well I think your girlfriend will be kicking herself when she realises what a mistake it was to let you go." He pointed at Sean's chest on the word 'you.'

Sean laughed. "I don't care anymore. She's a…a bitch." He said the word 'bitch' tentatively, like he was unused to saying it, and didn't really mean it. "She slept with my best friend." He said weakly, his blue eyes suddenly sad. "She told me she was sorry…and I believed her. But it hurt so much, whenever I saw them I couldn't stop thinking about it."

Morgan smiled at him comfortingly. "She didn't deserve you, man. You're better off without her."

Sean nodded and looked up at him with a grateful smile. Then he said something which caught Morgan by surprise.

"Did Aaron ever tell you I'm bisexual?"

"No." Morgan raised his eyebrows.

"I suppose that's not surprising knowing him." Sean laughed. "He doesn't talk much about his personal life does he? He probably doesn't even remember actually. I came out to my whole family when I was fourteen, as soon as I realised, and to my fiancée –we were childhood sweethearts back then. But since I had already found the one, and she was a woman, nobody seemed to care. I know I shouldn't be bothered by that, but I am a bit. It was a bit of an anti-climax to my coming out story y'know? I feel like I can't be taken seriously as a gay man if I've never had to bravely fight for acceptance. Like I'm denied membership to gay club." He chuckled at his own analogy.

Morgan smiled. "Yeah I get that."

There was a short silence.

"So you've never been with a guy?" Morgan asked softly, with a little smile.

Sean shook his head. "I've never been with anybody except her."

Morgan traced Sean's leg with his fingers softly.

"Well then…this seems like the perfect opportunity for you to try something a little different." He said seductively. Hating himself. Hating that he needed this so much.

Sean smiled and put his and Morgan's glasses down on the glass coffee table. Then he shifted closer to Morgan and kissed him slowly and almost carefully, moving his lips delicately, placing his right hand on Morgan's far shoulder and stroking it up to rest on his neck.

Morgan was nearly overwhelmed by guilt and shame. Reid hadn't been gone a day yet and here he was jumping into bed with the first man who asked. But the guilt faded as Morgan held Sean against him tighter and tighter and their breathing got heavier and the leather couch creaked as if moaning its own arousal, a lonely voyeur beneath them.

Morgan pushed Sean onto his back and kissed him harder and Sean moved his legs apart to make room for him. He was being so sweet and submissive, obviously assuming without discussion that Morgan would be pitching and that he would be catching. Morgan's chest tightened unpleasantly at the thought and he stopped.

"What's wrong?" Sean asked gently, stroking his chest.

Morgan closed his eyes. "I'm okay…I just…"

"You're thinking about Reid?" Sean's eyes were sympathetic and knowing.

Morgan shook his head. He pushed his hard-on into Sean's hip. "I'm only thinking about getting your big dick up my ass." He murmured in Sean's ear, hating himself.

Sean blushed. "Oh…" he said, sounding bemused.

Morgan raised his eyebrows.

"I just…kind of assumed it would be the other way around." Sean admitted.

"You're not disappointed are you?"

"God no! I don't mind who puts what where as long as I get to have you." Sean said huskily, kissing him frantically. "Besides," he said pulling back with a lascivious grin. "We've got all night. I'm sure we can go both ways. That is if you can keep up with me." He said mischievously.

Morgan forced a smile to try and hide his anxiety. He kissed Sean with even more determination, pulling his shirt off and dropping it onto the floor. Sean's body was fantastic. He had a natural even tan and although he wasn't muscular like Morgan he was toned in all the right places, had broad shoulders and chest which tapered into a narrower waist. Morgan kissed his chest and brushed his thumbs over his nipples. Sean chuckled and squirmed.

"Oh God don't. I've always been sensitive there." He said. Morgan grinned and flicked his tongue over one and Sean laughed again. "Ohh you son of a-mphhh" Morgan cut him off midsentence with a kiss and got to work on his pants. "No," Sean pushed his hands away but Morgan thought he was playing and kept on trying. "Seriously Derek wait…I need to get the...erm…protection. It's just in the bathroom I'll only be a minute." He said, blushing.

Morgan apologised and released him, feeling ashamed of himself for being so forceful. He just really didn't want Sean to leave the room even for a second, because then the guilt and the fear came back and he started to wonder what the hell he was doing with this lovely strange man in his apartment about to have sex with him, when he had no real feelings for him. When he should be thinking of his best friend, the man he loved.

Why was he like this? Why was he such a player who couldn't keep it in his pants for five minutes? Why couldn't he be like Reid? Or like Sean who had long term, committed, respectful relationships and didn't whore himself out to countless strangers all his adult life? What would Reid think of him if he knew what he was doing right now? He'd probably be disgusted and hurt and would thank his lucky stars that he escaped a relationship with such a damaged, sick individual. One who obviously wasn't really even capable of love.

By the time Sean came back he was sitting with his head in his hands trying to stave off a panic attack.

"What's wrong?" Sean asked, sitting down on the coffee table facing him and taking his hands in his own.

Morgan just shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

_Great. I can't even do a sleazy one night stand right without ruining it._

"Please Derek, you can talk to me. I want to help. Tell me how I can help." Sean said.

Morgan looked up. He reached out, cupped a hand around the back of Sean's neck and jerked his head forward into a kiss. Sean looked surprised but went with it. Morgan released him after a few seconds, pressed their foreheads together, panting.

"You really want to help me?" asked Morgan, closing his eyes.

Sean nodded breathlessly.

"I need you to force me. Hold me down, be rough with me. Even hurt me a little. Please."

Sean looked at him anxiously.

"I know that sounds crazy but I want it. I want you to fuck me like you hate me." Morgan said, quietly and quickly.

Sean shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?" Morgan sat back and looked away.

Sean looked bewildered. "Because how could I hate you?"

Morgan shook his head and looked at the floor. "You don't know me. You don't know what I've done."

"No I don't. But I do know that good people do bad things sometimes and that doesn't make _them_ bad. It makes them human." Sean said.

Morgan rested his elbows on his knees and his hands on the back of his neck, staring at the carpet.

"I've ruined this. I'm so sorry." He said hollowly.

"Well luckily you're very hot, so I forgive you." Sean laughed. Morgan forced a chuckle.

He looked up into Sean's eyes.

"Can we just forget that the past five minutes where I acted like a total psychopath ever happened?"

Sean smiled. "I think I'm drunk enough to have a good crack at it." He said. "But you'll have to be extra good to me to make up for it." He said suggestively, standing up and leading Morgan to his bedroom.

Morgan knew that that was a joke but suddenly he really wanted to give this guy an amazing lay, because he sure as hell deserved one. So he shoved all his messy feelings to the back of his mind and concentrated on giving Sean pleasure.

In the end he penetrated Sean, because Sean really wanted to try it. He used about half a tube of lubricant and he was so paranoid about hurting him that he went extra slow, moving so cautiously that he got practically nothing from it, though he pretended he did so Sean wouldn't feel like he had to get him off another way. Sean was full of smiles afterwards and wanted to talk about it, how good it was, how different it was from what he'd been expecting and how glad he was he'd finally tried it. But Morgan could hardly look at him. He pretended he was sleepy and eventually Sean snuggled up to him and fell asleep.

Morgan got up and pulled on his boxers and sat on the couch in the other room. He put his head in his hands and tried to cry because he desperately needed to. But forcing it and doing it silently wasn't satisfying so he stopped and stared at the ceiling bleakly.

_I'm so sorry Reid. You deserve better than this._

In the morning he was polite and gentle but he made it clear that he didn't want a relationship of any kind. Sean looked a little disappointed but agreed that he probably wasn't ready to date again yet either. He was still lovely to Morgan anyway, made him eggs benedict for breakfast and wished him luck when they said goodbye.

Morgan felt like the worst person in the world.

...

**Hello! Sorry for the slight delay, I was in Germany at the weekend visiting a family friend who, when he hears: 'I like lazy afternoons on the internet' thinks: 'I will take her snowboarding in the Alps.' ****ALL DAY. =_= **

******Apologies for the upsettingness in chapter 28, and this chapter (...and more which are on the way), since Morgan is about to go majorly off the rails. Buuut this is an angst story so you kind of asked for it. xD ********I probably should have warned in the summary about the Morgan/Sean action but that was kind of a spur of the moment impulse. I just thought it would be cool. **

******A few comments were saying they can't see a happy ending for the two boys anymore and asking me whether I still plan to give them their walking off into the sunset moment one day. The answer is YES. YES. ALWAYS YES. I'm maybe being cruel to them at the moment but I will make them okay again if it kills me, do not worry folks. I got this. **

******I don't have time to do reviews today, please forgive me ): I adore everybody who reviews and would give you all my firstborn children if only my uterus could produce enough fetuses to go round. ^^**


	30. Chapter 30

When he got back to his apartment feeling hung over and worthless there was a message blinking on his answerphone and his heart nearly stopped because it could've been Reid, and maybe he'd missed his only chance to talk to him because he'd been too busy screwing Hotch's brother. He was so sure it was Reid. For one irrational moment he panicked in case he'd somehow found out about him and Sean. He waited with his finger on the button for a whole minute before he pressed it, repeating 'I'm sorry' a hundred times in his head first, like that could possibly make a difference.

It was Hotch.

"Hey Derek, I'm outside your apartment right now and you're not answering, and you turned off your cell…I don't know where you are but if you can hear this please pick up?"

There was a pause. Morgan poured himself a measure of the vodka he'd bought on the way home, with trembling hands and downed it.

"No I didn't think so. Well wherever you are, be careful, and if you need anything I'll be at home. Don't hesitate to call me if you want to talk. Uh…right. Goodbye then." And he hung up.

Silence again.

The whole day stretched out in front of him suddenly, vast and empty. Alone.

_Derek Morgan denying his feelings and pushing away the people who try to help him. Never saw that coming._

He switched the TV on to drown out his thoughts, poured himself another vodka, and started unloading the dishwasher to keep his hands busy. He was putting glasses away in the cupboard when he noticed that there was still a red wine stain inside one of the expensive, delicate wine glasses. He scowled and kicked the dishwasher, (possibly not the best idea in the world) and accused it of deliberately slacking off to spite him.

He turned on the hot tap and ran the glass underneath, then squirted some dish soap into it. In the middle of this he suddenly realised he could hear his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket and freaked out so much he dropped the glass into the sink and it exploded, embedding a sizeable shard in his hand between his thumb and first finger, drawing blood.

"_AHH!_ HELL…FUCKING…SON OF A _BITCH_!" he yelled, apparently so rattled that his brain couldn't decide on a single cuss-word to use. He sucked on the wound and reached for a dish towel to wrap around the cut.

_As if I didn't have enough problems already._

He ran into the other room and dug frantically through the pockets of his jacket to get his phone.

After all that, it was Young.

"What?" Morgan said aggressively.

"Wow…well I guess that answers the question of whether you're still mad at me." Young joked nervously.

"I'm not mad." Morgan said wearily, surprising himself. "I just dropped a glass when the phone rang. I thought you were…um."

"You thought I was Reid."

"Yeah it was stupid." Morgan said.

"It's not at all stupid." Young said seriously.

There was a short pause.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you straight away." Young said solemnly.

"It's fine." Morgan said dismissively.

"No, it's not. It was a really bad thing I did, and the irony is that I put off telling you because I'm just a big coward and I didn't want you to hate me. And I do think of you as a friend. To tell you the truth, you and Reid are the only real friends I've had in a long time. Apart from Aaron I mean." His voice was a little slurred and emotional.

"Man, have you been drinking?" Morgan asked.

"Maybe." Young said cagily.

"It's 8:00am!" Morgan said.

"Really? My watch says its…" he paused and there was a clinking of bottles. "Peach Schnapps o'clock." He sounded surprised. "That's what this was?"

Morgan laughed. "Schnapps? I hate to tell you this but that's a little gay. Real men drink vodka for breakfast."

"Wait you're drunk too? Oh my God you hypocrite!" Young laughed. "You almost made me feel ashamed of my alcoholism."

Morgan laughed.

"Anyway…where was I? I had a speech planned. Fuck I wrote it down somewhere… so basically to summarize: I did a really bad thing and I suck and I really…really hope you can forgive me."

"You're forgiven" Morgan smiled. "Now for God's sake step away from the schnapps."

"Seriously? How comes you're not angry anymore?" Young asked curiously.

"Yeah, well I'm not exactly perfect am I?" Morgan mumbled. "So I can't really blame you. Everybody does really shitty things sometimes. Doesn't make you a bad person." _Or so I hear._

"You're the best, man." Young told him happily. "Dude, d'you wanna go out somewhere and drink? Drinking in the morning is less pathetic when you're in a group."

"Thanks for the offer but I think I'm just gonna go back to bed. I didn't really get to sleep last night."

"Okay fair enough. Just me and my schnapps then. Schnapps. Man that's a nice word."

"_Bye_ Young." Morgan laughed and hung up.

He unwrapped his hand from the bloody towel and looked at the wound. It was deep but it had nearly stopped bleeding and didn't feel like it'd torn anything vital. He wasn't that bothered about getting a small scar (he had plenty more where that came from) so he decided it wasn't worth getting it sutured.

He stared at the blood for a while, squeezing his hand muscles a little to get more out. He felt massively calmed down by the sight of it and the dull throbbing pain. Eventually he shook himself out of his daze and went to get a dressing from the medicine cabinet. Then he brushed his teeth and got into bed.

...

He only meant to sleep for an hour or two but instead slept through until around 7:45pm when he was woken by Hotch ringing the doorbell.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch asked once they were sat down.

_Like there are rats in my chest eating me up from the inside, trying to claw their way up my throat_.

Morgan shrugged. "Been better I guess." He said. "I'm sorry I didn't call and warn you I was going to be out last night. It was good of you to come round."

"You don't have to apologise." Hotch said. Mercifully he didn't pry into where Morgan had been all night. "I only wanted to discuss where you are in regards to coming back to work. I've organised for you to have a week off work, but I'm not making it compulsory. If you wake up and think 'I can't do this today' then that's fine, but if you need the distraction then that's also fine."

"What about everybody else?" Morgan asked, knowing the whole team would be hit hard by the loss of its youngest member.

"Prentiss and Garcia both said they could manage without time off. I offered JJ the same deal but she refused it as well."

Morgan clenched his jaw at the mention of their names. Hotch saw his reaction.

"Don't be too hard on them. They meant well."

Morgan let out a short, bitter, crazy laugh. "They meant well." He repeated, like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Hotch wisely left the subject alone. Morgan scratched the dressing on his hand.

"What happened?" Hotch asked when he noticed it.

"Dropped a glass." Morgan said, pressing down on the cut. The pain made the rage duller, made everything duller. It was actually pretty cool. "It wasn't very deep but it itches like hell." He lied.

"That usually means it's healing." Hotch said reassuringly. "I've got a clumsy five year old son so I know what I'm talking about when it comes to injuries like that."

Morgan smiled and nodded distractedly.

"Hotch…?" He began a question which had been bugging him.

"Yes?"

"Why haven't you found him yet? I mean I get that he doesn't want to be found and he's probably covering his tracks pretty good, but surely Garcia could have figured something out by now?"

Hotch hesitated. "Yes, Garcia actually had the same idea. She was desperate to find a way to make it up to you." He said. "But I stopped her."

"You're kidding right?" Morgan snapped, frustrated. "I'm starting to think you don't want him back!"

Hotch looked at him coldly. "He's not an unsub Morgan. Could you just think for a second about how Reid might react to being hunted down and forced to face us when he's not ready?"

_Of course now he's already _gone_ you all start respecting his wish for privacy._ Morgan thought bitterly, looking down. He dug his thumb into his hand almost unconsciously.

"It's not like I planned to drag him back home or anything." He said defensively. "I just need to know what the hell he's thinking. I need to know where I stand."

Hotch looked at him silently for a while before speaking.

"You're not going to like what I'm about to say to you, but I'm going to say it anyway." He said firmly. "I know you're angry and I know you've been hurt just as bad as Reid has by this, but if you love that boy as much as I know you do, then you should try to understand that this was _his_ decision, and that this is what he needs, instead of throwing blame around at people who are trying to help."

Morgan winced as he felt the healed wound split open again under his thumb, felt the warmth seep out of his hand and into the dressing. He hid his hand between his knees so Hotch wouldn't see the red stain on the dressing.

"How exactly do you think any of you can _help_ me now?" he hissed. It took all his self-restraint not to yell at his boss. "He _LEFT ME_ Hotch. I'd do _anything_ for him and he _left _me here to _rot_! And not only do I have to cope without my best friend, I now have to deal with the fact that everybody knows…no, everybody _saw_ exactly what I did to him." He put his head in his uninjured hand and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. His voice broke a little at the next part, "You can't even begin to imagine how humiliated I feel. And I honestly don't know how I'm ever gonna get past the guilt…the _shame_." He laughed ironically. "Which by the way is a feeling that I never expected to have to face _TWICE_ in my lifetime because THIS TEAM couldn't keep its goddamned nose out of my business, even when I _told_ you I wanted to keep it private!" he growled.

He heard Hotch sigh.

"They were wrong to do what they did…" Hotch said solemnly.

"But?" Morgan said sarcastically, expecting more 'they were only trying to help' bullshit.

"No buts. They were wrong. You didn't deserve any of this." He said, squeezing his shoulder. "And I'm so sorry it happened. And now it's up to you whether you have it in you to try to forgive them or not. But either way we all need to try and make the best of the situation. You don't know how long he'll be gone for. You can't spend all that time angry."

"Wanna bet?" Morgan asked through gritted teeth.

"Try to find the positives in the situation." Hotch said. "I know that sounds ridiculous but there are some. For example you don't have to feel responsible for Reid's welfare, you can just focus on your own. You don't have to pretend to be okay when you're actually not, because nobody expects you to be okay. It's out in the open. And your friends are feeling guilty as hell and desperate to support you however they can. You'll probably never have to pay for a drink again in your life."

Morgan gave a half-smile and shook his head. "At the moment I seriously can't see myself ever forgiving them for this. I can't just go back to normal and pretend it never happened. I wish I never had to see them again." He clenched his jaw.

Hotch looked at the floor. For a moment he didn't speak.

"Just talk to them, that's all I ask. Even if it's just to tell them how sickened you are by their behaviour. Maybe once you've let it all out, this rage you feel will go away." He said finally. "It might make you feel better."

"Yeah well…I'll think about it." Morgan humored him, though truthfully he found them so repulsive at the moment that even the thought of yelling at them brought no enjoyment.

"Do you think you'll come to work tomorrow?" Hotch asked.

"We'll see." Morgan said. Hotch nodded.

When he left, Morgan lay on the couch drinking more vodka and singing along to Coldplay's Mylo Xyloto on the sound system until he passed out again.

...

The next morning he decided to go to work after all. His head hurt like hell and he would've given anything not to have to see the three women, but in the end he figured that the sooner he could get back to normal the sooner everybody would leave him alone.

Also there was a part of him which made him want to go in purely out of spite, he was still so angry at Reid for leaving, that in a way he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was missing him.

He was perfectly aware that Reid wouldn't know either way. And that even if he did find out somehow it was unlikely he'd read into the fact that Morgan had returned to work two days after his leaving and interpret it as the personal slight on him it was meant to be. Even to Morgan his reasoning made no sense. But that was the best he could do at translating his twisted emotions when he was still a little drunk from the night before and he couldn't find any aspirin.

It was approximately 2 minutes after he entered the building that he started to regret his decision.

Everything was too loud and bright and claustrophobic because of the hangover, he was behind on his cases and his normally clear and organised desk was left in a mess by whoever was trying to cover his work, and when he walked in (wearing shades and clutching a bottle of mineral water like it was the elixir for eternal life) Prentiss and JJ looked at him like he was an African orphan street-kid dying of AIDs and starvation right there on the floor.

_Save your pity for Reid. _He thought bitterly.

He scowled at them and ignored them, walking on past up to Hotch's office to tell him he was there. He asked if he could do his work in a separate room to avoid having his stomach turned by the three traitorous witches (not exactly in those words) but Hotch just looked down at his paperwork and told him to stop acting like a child, and that if he wasn't prepared to be professional about working with them then he shouldn't bother coming back to work at all.

He hadn't really even expected Hotch to say yes, but the refusal still got his blood heated.

He sat down at his desk, feeling their eyes on him all the time, and spent an hour re-organising the shit out of his work space right down to sharpening his pencils to the exact same length. When that was done he felt a little less anxious, and was able to get some work done. He was typing up a profile for a case of escalating arson attacks in Kansas where a woman had accidentally been trapped and burned to death, when a coffee was put down carefully on the desk next to him. He looked up. It was Prentiss, bravely making the first move, with JJ watching anxiously from her own desk.

He picked up the coffee and moved it onto the next desk over from his, and then went back to ignoring her.

Prentiss didn't take the hint.

"We didn't mean for you to see the video." She began quietly. "That's why we waited until after hours to play it. And we had no idea what was on it…the unsubs profiled as thrill-seeking co-dependent psychopaths who used torture and violence to get off. We never even considered…I mean sexual sadists hardly ever use…sexual violence…to get off, because they're impotent. That's why they're driven to torture. And forcing the victims to enact sexual violence on each other to act as surrogates for themselves is a more psychologically elaborate and difficult to set up MO than they should have been capable of devising and pulling off at their IQ levels." She spoke hushed and quickly so they couldn't be overheard, but mentioning it in a room full of people still filled him with anxiety and rage. "If you'd told us what happened then of course we never would've…"

He stood up, scraping his chair on the floor. As an excuse to leave the room he picked up a stack of folders for closed cases which needed to be taken to the archives and filed, then turned and stalked out of the room, not letting her finish.

"I didn't mean that to sound like I was blaming you!" Prentiss said, hurrying after him out into the empty corridor. "Of course I understand why you wanted to keep it a secret! I'd have felt the same way in your place!"

Morgan still didn't reply. He headed for the men's room as a quick escape but Prentiss overtook him and blocked his path. He turned back and saw that JJ had followed them out, and Garcia had poked her head out of her office, having heard Prentiss's voice. He stopped and gave up on his avoidance plan, since they were quite clearly determined to trap him.

Prentiss continued. "Look…just…don't blame Garcia okay? She didn't want to do it. I talked her into it by saying it was to help Reid. And JJ too, she genuinely just wanted to understand what had happened to Reid so she'd know how to make it better for him, that's all. I was doing it because I hate things being kept from me. In my old job there were so many things kept a secret, that's why I left. I thought maybe something had happened on that case which you weren't allowed to talk about. You have to admit, the way we were suddenly taken off the case was pretty suspicious! I was thinking government involvement, official secrets act. I couldn't think of any other reason you couldn't tell us, your family. I'm so sorry. It was all my fault. I just…can't seem to let myself trust anybody." Prentiss confessed.

Morgan looked at her again. Then at JJ and Garcia. Garcia visibly cringed under his gaze. He couldn't look at her for long, knowing she'd seen him do _that_.

"Do you really think I give a _damn_ why you did this?" he said venomously, fighting to keep his voice at office-conversation level. "What difference does it make to me, to Reid, whether or not you were trying to help him?"

She looked at the floor. "None. I just…thought you should know."

"You know what?" Morgan laughed. "I'm actually glad Reid left. At least it means he won't have to sit through all your lame-ass excuses, and pathetic reasons he shouldn't _despise_ you for ruining his life."

Prentiss nodded, still with her eyes on the floor, looking like she was trying not to cry.

"I'm really sorry Derek." She said quietly.

He laughed hollowly. "That's real nice Prentiss, but '_sorry_' won't change the fact that I _raped_ my best friend. " He said coldly. They flinched. "It won't change the fact that you _watched_."

He laughed again. "Just out of curiosity, when _were_ you going to stop the video? When they took our clothes off? Did you get the message then? Or maybe you thought there was a chance we were just going to play a little game of naked Musical Statues? Better to wait, just to make sure huh?"

Prentiss looked devastated and shook her head. JJ was crying by this point.

He couldn't bring himself to look at Garcia again.

"Let's see…" he continued harshly. "When we came in you were at the part where we were kissing right? If we hadn't come in right then would you have stopped it there?" he leaned in and grinned predatorily. "Or did the sight of two guys being forced to have sex turn you on a little bit?"

They both opened their mouths to protest. He jumped in before they could find the words.

"No c'mon seriously! Did we make you just a tiny bit wet? I'm sure it must have at least crossed your mind once or twice whether Little Derek matches up to his reputation? So maybe you woulda kept on being horrified_ juuust_ long enough to see whether the good doctor is actually human down there, or whether he's an android sent from the future." He said mockingly, then lowered his voice accusingly. "And once you'd all gotten that far, well you might as well see me fuck him right?"

"No!" Prentiss cried out, looking horrified.

"Are you crazy!?" JJ whispered.

"Oh I'm sorry ladies, am I making you uncomfortable?" Morgan said in mocking apology. "Doesn't feel good does it? People talking about the most_ personal_ and _private_ things about you, like they don't belong to you anymore, like you don't deserve even _basic_ human dignity or respect."

He took a step closer to Prentiss. "Now imagine that everybody you work with had actually _watched_ you in your most vulnerable state, being forced to live out your worst nightmare. Imagine that from now on every time they talk to you, you know they're thinking about what you did, they're wondering how it felt, wondering how the hell you screwed up enough to get yourself into that position in the first place."

"We're not! We don't think that at all!" Prentiss cried indignantly .

Morgan continued regardless, getting right up close to her.

"Or maybe deep down, they're even just a little bit _satisfied_ on behalf of all the women like them who can't get a member of the opposite sex to look at them twice, or on behalf of all women who a man like _me_ slept with and then dumped the next morning. Because obviously stuff like this only happens to sluts and players." He wasn't laughing anymore, even sarcastically. "They're being all sympathetic to you but inside they're thinking…people like that, like _you_, who let a different person into their bed every night of the week, who give everyone and _anyone_ the use of their bodies for casual sex, well they really shouldn't make such a fuss just because somebody finally took what they wanted without signing on the dotted line first, right? They had it coming really. Maybe it'll finally teach them to keep it in their pants." The hatred died from his voice, leaving only raw misery and exhaustion.

There were a few seconds of stunned silence.

Then Prentiss put a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't look at her.

"I swear to God Derek…" she said, shaking her head. "If I ever had the thought that somebody like _you_ of all people deserved to be sexually assaulted, I would kill myself."

"You can think whatever the fuck you want. Just stay out of my way from now on." He said tiredly, gaze fixed on the floor. He turned around and walked away just in time to see Garcia's door swing shut, hear her crying inside, probably with her back to the door.

For about ten seconds there he'd felt satisfied by the shock, the hurt on their faces, knowing _he'd _done that to them. It felt like standing up for Reid, standing up for himself, punishing them and getting justice for what they'd put him through.

And then the illusion wore off, and he was just a miserable asshole with a hangover and a grudge he couldn't shake off.

_I could really use a drink right now. _He thought.

_..._

**I hope you guys are satisfied now Morgan's given them a good telling off! Many of you seemed to want that (: some of you sounded absolutely furious with them! I suppose that means I must be doing my job right!**

**As for me I am currently more infuriated with the word 'sofa.' Allow me to explain: **

**I try my best to use the american words for things but for some reason, I cannot do 'couch.' No matter how hard I try to remember, whenever I look back through a chapter there are like 5 places where I used 'sofa' instead ): I had to edit the last chapter after I put it up. ****AHHHH. **So embarrassing! 

***cries* Once again I have no time for reviews but I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway xxx**


	31. Chapter 31

**Song for this chapter: Breath~ Breaking Benjamin**

**...**

_Five days later_

It was five o'clock on the day before Christmas eve, the last day of work before the holiday started. The BAU Christmas party would start at half past six on the second floor, with mince pies and mulled wine and eggnog and music. Normally they socialised with the rest of their floor and visited friends at other floor's parties for a couple of hours before the team went to a restaurant to have their own party.

Morgan wished he could skip both. Hotch asked him to embrace the Christmas spirit and think about coming, so as a compromise he agreed to attend the office party, but not the team gathering. He would only bring the mood down anyway, as he pointed out to Hotch. Hotch just gave him a sad look and asked him if he really thought that that would matter to any of them.

Morgan slumped back in his chair. The sound of his own typing was killing his head.

JJ and Prentiss were talking about him. He could tell because they were making a rigid effort not to look at him. It had taken several days of cold shouldering them but finally they seemed to have got the message and left him alone. Still, the tense atmosphere in the office was making him feel nauseous.

He stood up and walked out into the corridor to get a coke from the vending machine. The machine picked that moment to get stuck, so the can was just a few degrees away from falling out of the plastic holster. He swore and slammed his fist against the vending machine five times before an intense pain shot through his hand and he remembered it was the wounded one, now bleeding again. It was a miracle it hadn't got infected by now with the number of times it had reopened.

He kicked the machine and tilted it forwards and shook it, before finally giving up and resting his back against it, panting and frustrated.

"Ahh the eternal epic struggle between man and vending machine, both putting their lives on the line and going to war; for honour, for pride, and _for a bottle of coca cola_." Came a dramatic voice from the end of the corridor.

Morgan gave a fake smile. "Hey." He said, embarrassed.

"Don't give up. The beast may have won the battle, but the war will be ours." Young smiled, walking up to him.

Morgan gave an approximation of a laugh. "So, you here for the BAU party then?"

"I haven't decided yet. The sixth floor's looks pretty good. They've got pass the parcel."

Morgan laughed. "Oh, very supportive, thanks! By the way you do remember that you don't technically work here right?"

"I consider myself the FBI's guest of honour." Young smirked. "You going then?"

"Yeah probably." Morgan nodded.

There was an awkward silence.

"You've been avoiding me." Young stated. It wasn't a question so Morgan didn't answer.

There was a silence so awkward he decided to respond after all. He shrugged.

"I've been busy."

"Busy avoiding me." Young said.

Morgan shrugged.

"I knew you were still mad at me for not telling you about Reid straight away." Young remarked. "Anger like that doesn't just go away overnight."

"I'm not angry." Morgan protested.

"Oh yes, the man I came across two minutes ago practically _assaulting_ a vending machine looked like the very definition of tranquillity." Young said sarcastically. "I could have mistaken you for the Buddha had you not got such perfectly defined abdominal muscles."

Morgan clenched his jaw.

"So the question is," Young continued. "If you're keeping up this mask of normality at work all day every day, where is all that repressed rage going?"

Morgan shrugged.

"It must take a lot out of a guy. Squashing down that much anger. Though of course, you're a pro at repressing things you're ashamed of." Young said quietly.

There was another silence.

"Hotch knows about the drinking by the way. He called this morning, says it's the fourth day in a row you've come in late, smelling of alcohol."

Morgan looked down. "Things just got on top of me today."

"Please tell me you haven't been driving to work in this state." Young said in a hushed voice as two other workers, a man and a woman, walked past them, the sound of the woman's high heels grating against Morgan's sore head.

"No. I take the bus now. I keep mixing up the timetable. That's why I've been late a couple of times."

Young looked at him. "The bus? What are you, twelve years old?" he sniggered. "Or worse, Spencer Reid?"

Morgan scowled.

"Okay, okay, too soon. Sorry." Young said sheepishly. "Look why don't we go somewhere and talk?" he suggested. "We don't even have to mention 'he who must not be named.' I miss you dude."

"No thanks. And no offence but even if I needed it you're the last person I'm gonna talk to about an alcohol problem." Morgan said meaningfully. Young gave a kind of 'fair enough' shrug. "And you can tell Hotch I'm done jumping through hoops. He can either leave me alone or he can fire me, I don't care anymore. I'm not mad at you but I am officially discharging myself from you as a patient."

"He's not going to fire you for that." Young sighed.

"Didn't think so." Morgan gave a tired smile.

"But he's going to have to if you keep on down this road." Young warned him. "Tell me, are you finding it difficult to get through the day without a drink yet? See I've been on this same road as you a long time ago, back when it mattered to people what I did. I know all about the excuses and self-deception, and I know how pretty soon it becomes all you can think about. All you're living for. What'll it be next? Sneaking whisky from a hipflask from under the desk? Bringing vodka disguised in a water bottle? Face it Derek, for a guy in your position becoming an alcoholic _sucks_ as a coping mechanism."

"I'm not-"

"No of course not. They never are." Young said wearily. "You know I'm starting to think alcoholics are actually mythical beings, since not one of my patients has ever admitted to being one."

"Mind your own business." Morgan snapped. "I don't want you interfering in my life anymore."

"Right, and I'm just supposed to watch you systematically throw away or destroy every good thing in your life?" For the first time Morgan could remember, Young looked angry. "A fit and healthy man in his prime, intelligent, confident, working at nearly the top of his field? Do you know what some people would give to be you?"

Morgan narrowed his eyes. "Your inferiority complex isn't my responsibility, Young."

Young laughed sarcastically. "Oh wow. You profilers. You really think you can read minds don't you? My inferiority-Oh my God you're such a dick. My _inferiority_ complex. You think you're so fucking clever don't you!" he practically spat.

"Fine. What _is_ it then?" Morgan folded his arms disinterestedly.

Young smiled, anger lighting his eyes like the moment where a match is struck.

"Your Dr Reid figured it out." He said tauntingly. "Just before he left."

That got his attention.

"Figured what out?"

Young looked into his eyes without blinking.

"Haven't you ever wondered," he said taking a ball out of his pocket and holding it aloft between his thumb and finger. "why I carry this ball around with me wherever I go?"

Morgan fixed his eyes onto it. He nodded. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Do you officially give up, profiler boy?" Young smirked.

Morgan glared at him. "Yes. What did Reid know?"

Young's smirk grew wider.

"Tell you what…let's turn this into a gentleman's wager." He crouched down next to the vending machine and stuck his arm through the flap. "I bet I can get that can of coke out through cunning and wit, where brute force has failed, and you bet against me. If I fail, you get your answer."

"And if you succeed?" Morgan asked, though it was obvious that Young's arm wasn't long enough, even if he did manage to get it past the anti-theft arm trap.

"I keep the coke." Young said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Fine." Morgan held out a hand suspiciously. "You're on." Young shook his hand with his left, since his right was inside the flap.

Young grinned. He stood up, reached into his pocket and stuck a coin into the slot before poking in the code for the row of the can which had got stuck. It moved along and both cans dropped down into the bottom. Young fished them out and handed one to Morgan.

Morgan scowled. "You cheater."

"I can't believe you fell for that." Young hooted with laughter. "Inferiority complex my ass, I am a freaking GOD. Come and find me when you figure out the answer. Or when your life begins to fall apart, either will do. See you at the party."

He tossed his ball to Morgan before he left.

Somehow Morgan felt even _more _hung over than he had ten minutes ago.

...

He couldn't focus on his work at all after his conversation with Young, even though a large part of him was reasonably certain that he was just bluffing, using some kind of therapy mind trick to intrigue him into sticking with the counselling. But if that was the case then using Reid as bait was a very below the belt and risky strategy. Somehow it didn't seem like Young's style.

He rolled the ball between his fingers, staring at the unopened can of coke.

Giving up, he opened his desk drawer and dropped the ball into it, shoving it closed irritably. Then he cracked open the can and drank it.

Whatever Young was trying to do to him he wouldn't let it work.

However, though he hated to admit it, he knew Young was right when he said that using alcohol to relieve the stress and anxiety couldn't work for him long term. He never meant to carry it on this long anyway. Whatever Young believed, Morgan knew he wasn't yet psychologically dependent on alcohol to function, but he knew that if he didn't get out of the habits he was forming now then that would soon change.

He gave up on finishing his work before the holiday and decided to go home to eat, shower and change. He decided he'd turn up for the party around eight so he could avoid all the awkward small talk and trying to remember people's names before everybody started knocking back the eggnog.

Garcia came up to him just as he was leaving. His shoulders stiffened.

_Why can't you just leave me alone? _He thought miserably.

"Derek?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. He turned to face her. She held out a flat square present wrapped in cartoon reindeer wrapping paper. "I know that just because it's Christmas it doesn't mean you have to forgive me or anything, I just…I wanted you to know that I love you and I'm always going to be there for you no matter what you're going through."

Morgan nodded without meeting her eyes, took it and left.

"Merry Christmas." She called out after him, but he pretended not to hear.

...

He arrived at the party in a cab wearing black jeans and a black shirt with a grey tie and his leather jacket, with a few tequila shots already humming through his system, loosening the knot of tension in his stomach. He couldn't drink much since he knew Hotch would be watching him the whole time, but once the team left for the restaurant he'd be free to knock himself out.

When he got there Hotch, Rossi and Strauss were standing together talking, holding cups of mulled wine. Strauss had had plenty of that already by the look of things. Hotch waved and Rossi nodded and raised his drink in acknowledgement when he walked in, both were giving him the kind of look which said _"Run, run for your life. It's too late for us but you can still escape before she notices you're here."_ He waved back, but took the hint and went off looking for somebody to talk to. He stopped and felt sad when he realised that the face he was scanning the crowd for was Reid.

If he'd been writing their lives as a story or a television drama, Reid would've been there, dressed in a tuxedo, waiting to surprise him. The only Christmas present he really wanted. But of course, he wasn't.

He saw Will and JJ with Henry on her hip, with Garcia fussing over the little blonde boy, who seemed fascinated by her Christmas themed accessories. She saw Morgan and smiled and he froze and for a moment he felt torn between how sick and angry and bitter she made him, and not wanting to be lonely any more.

Just in time he caught sight of a guy he vaguely recognised as a friend of Kevin's, who was, if he remembered right, a data analyst for ViCAP. He was tanned and muscular, of similar height to Morgan with blue eyes and dark hair cut in a neat military style, with a neat black strip of moustache above his top lip.

Morgan had noticed him around the bullpen a few times and though he had a stern, serious appearance he seemed like a very chatty, dynamic and fun sort of person. He was wearing a grey blazer buttoned over a white shirt, with tight maroon coloured jeans and expensive looking black leather shoes.

He went and introduced himself to the guy, who was putting packets of sugar into his warm wine.

His eyes lit up when he saw him. "Yeah I know who you are," he said, looking him up and down. "Derek, right? You're a pretty popular topic of gossip amongst the ladies in the office. Is it true you were stuck in a love-triangle with poor Kev and his girlfriend?"

Morgan laughed. "Hell no. Me and Penelope we're just…" he didn't know what to say. "I don't see her that way. And neither does she."

"Oh thank God!" He laughed. Morgan raised his eyebrows.

"I just mean…no offence or anything but that lady's dress sense rather offends my eyesight. It would significantly impair the delicate aesthetic balance…and thus my artistic enjoyment, of staring at your ass if she was in the frame." He smirked.

Morgan chuckled. "Oh really? Does that happen a lot then? You staring at my ass?" he asked.

"Why d'you think I'm always the one volunteering to run errands for the people on my floor?" The guy winked and took a sip of his wine, still holding his gaze. He screwed up his face a little. "Ugh I've added like a ton of sugar and this still tastes like piss."

Morgan smiled, then felt a sad twinge in his gut, reminded of how Reid put about ten sugars in his coffee when he needed to use his brain without resting.

He reached into the inside pocket of his waistcoat and showed Morgan the top of a bottle of Bacardi.

"You wanna find a quiet little corner to sit in and get smashed and make fun of everybody's dancing?" He asked with a cute grin, stroking a finger down the edge of Morgan's tie seductively. Morgan swallowed, stepped back quickly and looked around. Nobody was watching but he couldn't take the risk. He shook his head, even though he was desperate for a drink. And for the company.

"It's okay I get it, you don't want anybody to know. That's cool. We'll be discrete." He said quietly and let his hand drop by his side.

Morgan knew he should stop himself from going down this route. He'd felt so disgusted with himself after the thing with Sean. He'd stayed in every night since then to avoid that kind of temptation. He knew it wouldn't make anything better, it just made him hate himself even more.

But he was drunk and lonely, and this guy was hot, and funny…and _hot_. He found himself nodding and sitting down with him and his friends, passing the Bacardi back and forth and listening to him wittily dissect the fashion choices and romantic lives of everybody in the room.

His quick stream of speech and his need to find faults in others strongly indicated a lack of self-esteem, but Morgan figured it could also just be nerves or overexcitement.

Kevin came and joined the group and looked surprised to see Morgan hanging out with them.

"Hey Derek." He said awkwardly, obviously having heard from Garcia that he was giving her the silent treatment. Morgan nodded in greeting at Kevin, who sat down in the chair next to him.

They all went through the "Enjoying the party?" "Any special plans for Christmas?" line of small talk before Kevin ran out of things to say. Finally he asked, "Look, Penelope hasn't really told me anything but I can see that this fight is really upsetting her."

"Good. She deserves to be upset." Morgan said coldly.

"She said exactly the same thing." Kevin remarked sadly. "But she adores you, I can't imagine her doing anything to deliberately hurt you." He sighed. "I know I wasn't the biggest fan of how close you two were, but I prefer that to seeing her like this."

Morgan clenched his jaw. Kevin's words made him feel guilty, which made him angry. _What right do you have to say that to me when you have no clue what your stupid, interfering girlfriend did to me and my best friend? _

He stood up and stormed away from them. The room suddenly seemed too crowded and small, like everybody was looking at him. He'd apparently drunk quite a bit more than he thought he had. He was looking for the exit when he saw Young, wearing three pairs of brown felt antlers and hiding crouched behind a desk, looking sullen. Morgan went over and sat on the desk.

"What're you doing?" he asked, slamming a hand onto the desk. Young jumped, startled and squawked in alarm, before falling onto his ass.

"Oh thank God! I thought you were Emily!" Young let out a big breath, one of the pairs of antlers falling down to his chin. "I'm spying on her and that blonde, muscle-bound mutant she brought as a date" he scowled.

"Oh, you mean Jarvis?" Morgan followed Young's eyesight to where Emily stood next to the tall, handsome cop, who had embraced the Christmas spirit with a dorky knitted jumper and a Santa hat. They seemed to be having a good time, though if Morgan's instinct was correct, Jarvis was a lot more keen on Prentiss than she was on him. It actually sort of felt like she was over-responding to his smiles and jokes, putting a flirty hand on his arm when she normally wouldn't.

Morgan grinned. _Perhaps she has a very good idea of the fact that somebody may be spying on her. _

"You mean you knew!? You knew she was seeing him and you didn't bother to tell me?" Young sat up angrily.

"Sorry man. Didn't think you'd be interested." Morgan feigned innocent confusion. "You said you didn't want her that way."

"WELL I WAS LYING OF COURSE!" Young said loudly, obviously not quite grasping the concept of stealth. "Call yourself a profiler!?"

He flopped back onto the floor with a dramatic sigh.

"What are you sixteen years old?" Morgan shook his head. "She finds someone far more emotionally mature, who treats her way better than you ever did, and _now_ you want her back? Do you love her?"

Young hiccupped, and nodded miserably.

"Then you should accept that she's moved on and found somebody much hotter than you, who can give her more stability and security in life than you ever could, and that you're just going to have to spend the rest of your life regretting and mourning for what could've been, had you not been such a stupid ass." Morgan said solemnly.

Young looked at him like he'd just killed a puppy.

"Like hell I am!" he cried, standing up unsteadily. "I'm not going to let her slip through my fingers without a fight!"

Morgan smiled. Reverse psychology. Young wasn't the only one who could play mind games.

Young marched towards Prentiss and Jarvis.

Morgan watched the events unfold with amusement.

It looked like Young was giving a dramatic declaration of his feelings, Jarvis just looked confused and Prentiss looked like she wanted to kill Young. Then everyone in the room turned to look at them as Young declared very loudly that he and Jarvis should duel for her affection.

People crowded around them so Morgan couldn't see what was happening anymore, and then suddenly his interest in the situation waned sharply as he saw the hot guy he'd been talking to earlier giving him a naughty smirk and gesturing towards the door of somebody's office.

Morgan hesitated but found himself sliding off the desk and following him into the small office, almost in a daze. Anxiety and guilt clawed at his gut, but he was too drunk and wanted it too badly to be able to collect his thoughts enough to turn those feelings into a conscious decision. The door clicked shut behind him and the shutters were closed. In the dark and the privacy of some poor guy's office, he gave up any notion of struggling and let his animal instincts take over.

That's what he felt like, anyway. An animal. Greedy and horny and selfish, driven by need. It was such a relief to accept that, to let go.

The guy locked the door behind them, said he'd taken the keys off his boss since he was much too drunk to drive (conscientious citizen that he was). He clawed off Morgan's shirt and jacket but left on the tie while Morgan undressed him quickly. The guy dropped to his knees and started to give him a blowjob, his mouth wet and fast and practised. Morgan closed his eyes. Part of him was still fighting to run away.

_It's not too late to say no._

But another voice just laughed and said it _was_ too late, it had always been too late, because this was who he'd always been, a dirty slut without a single shred of self-respect who practically _invited_ people to take advantage of him. Why fight it? What reward was there now to be good and wholesome? Reid still left him. Reid figured out what kind of person he was and he ran to the fucking hills.

So what was there to do except wallow in filth and ecstasy?

There was a lot of whispering, giggling, fumbling in the dark, Morgan's back rubbed sore with carpet burn, staring up at the underside of the wooden table they were shagging under. They were both so tall that they had difficulty fitting under it. For the first time in a long while Morgan felt himself being physically dominated by a partner, pinned down by his sheer weight, feeling his legs and lower body lifted like he weighed nothing. It rarely happened to him and it was kind of a turn on.

What his partner in crime lacked in patience and consideration he made up for in enthusiasm, touching and kissing his body all over like a blind man trying to 'see' him through touch, while whispering smut and filth in his ear constantly, trying to get him to talk dirty.

"Tell me how much you love having my huge cock rammed into your ass." He whispered playfully, kissing his neck.

"_Dr Reid. Tell Agent Morgan you want him to fuck you."_

"C'mon, don't be shy." he laughed, running his hands over Morgan's stomach muscles lasciviously. "I wanna know how much of a filthy slut you are."

At first Morgan just shook his head but then the guy smirked and started only making small, frustrating jerks with his hips, which were uncomfortable and maddening. Morgan gave in.

Through gritted teeth he forced out the words, "I love…having your huge cock…_ahh!_" he gasped involuntarily, hit by a wave of pleasure as their previous rhythm was forcefully resumed. "rammed into my ass."

"_Please…I-I want you to…to…"_

"_Yes Dr Reid?" _

"_to fuck me."_

"_Like a dirty whore." _

"_to…fuck me like a dirty whore." _

He could hear himself speaking but the words didn't seem to mean anything, like he was hearing them underwater. Some of the things he ended up saying were really stupid and depraved and humiliating but he found himself not caring. Accepting the role of submissive meant he didn't have to think for himself, didn't have to carry the guilt and worry with him the whole time. Being abused made him feel less like the abuser.

When he came it was like being carried on a warm blue wave, beautiful and euphoric and at peace with himself. And then it was like being dashed onto rocks when the realisation hit, as it always did, that the period of satisfaction never lasted more than a few seconds, and that sex never seemed like such a good idea when you were on the other side of that wave. The feeling of warmth, heat, frantic desire to be close to someone and the naïve conviction that the experience would _change _something, that somehow this was the person who would get him out of the lonely grey rut he'd fallen into, it all shattered at this point and he realised how stupid he'd been to fall for it again.

And the shame was too much to bear.

He sat there under the table, numbly heard the door swing shut as the other guy left. Tucked up his knees and wrapped his arms around them, sitting up like that in the dark, waiting for the shock to fade from his system, patting himself down both mentally and physically. He felt sick and shaken up and just..._bruised_. Everywhere, in his heart and lungs and in more intimate places.

Technically he'd consented, he knew that, but somehow he still felt violated.

He was desperately trying to remember the man's name, or if he'd even _told_ Morgan what his name was. Somehow that made it even worse.

He pulled his pants and shirt back on. Leant his head back on the edge of a chair, arms folded, elbows resting on his knees. He closed his eyes and thought about killing himself. He had his gun with him. He could do it right there. Let Hotch and the others run in to find him there clothes scattered around, brains scattered further. They'd call Reid and tell him he was dead. Reid might come back for his funeral, or maybe he'd run even further away. He'd definitely blame himself, knowing Reid. The team would all look out for him and tell him it wasn't his fault, but he wouldn't believe them.

A sick part of him wanted that. Wanted Reid to cry and feel guilty about his death.

Not really but sort of.

Tears came to his eyes. He started to button his shirt, slowly and with full concentration. Nothing pointed to an office shag more than shirt buttons done up the wrong way. He couldn't get fired on top of everything. His job was all he had left.

_What the hell happened to me? _He wondered. Before all this he would never have dreamt of having sex in his place of work, no matter how drunk he was. An office of the FBI for God's sake! They probably had CCTV in every office. Thank God they'd only taken part in the most incriminating stuff under the table. That was a surprisingly practical choice by his companion.

Oh.

Morgan laughed bitterly and covered his face with his hands as he realised that he probably wasn't the first naïve, closeted Special Agent to be invited into that particular office. Everything his new friend had done had just seemed a little too slick and rehearsed.

Testing a hunch, he ran his fingers down each of the table legs. On one there were five notches scraped into the wood, suspiciously consistent widths apart.

"_My boss was too drunk to drive home so he gave me his keys." _Like hell he did.

Oh well. What did it matter anyway? It wasn't like he'd started planning their wedding or anything. He'd wanted an easy fuck and that was what he got. What he deserved.

He had no right to complain when he hadn't even bothered to get the guy's name.

He got to his feet, put on his jacket and tie and left the office. He walked back to the party to find Hotch and the rest of the team gone except for Young, who was sitting with a kind older lady from HR who was holding an ice pack to the right side of his cheek, which had a large reddened swelling on it, and dabbing a cotton square over a cut above his eyebrow.

"What happened to you?" Young asked huffily.

"What happened to _me?_" Morgan laughed. "Says the man with a cheek the size of a softball! Was that from Jarvis or Prentiss?"

Young looked uncomfortable. "Technically neither. I apparently overestimated my ability to balance upright under the influence of alcohol. Not very much alcohol I might add." He looked sad. "Anyway I…sort of _shoved_ Jarvis, which I regret by the way, as he and I chatted afterwards and he really is a _marvellous_ fellow, so pleasant and charismatic! And he can balance a teaspoon on his nose. But when he shoved me back I sort of stumbled backwards, tripped over somebody's handbag and fell face first onto the corner of a desk. It was all quite dramatic, there was a big gasp and I think everybody thought I was dead so…well I stood up quickly and did a little 'I'm alright!' tap dance, not realising that I had blood pouring down from my forehead into my eyes, making me look like some kind of bloodthirsty dancing zombie. And a word to the wise, small children do _not_ like zombies. Apparently. Neither do elderly women with pacemakers."

Morgan chuckled, feeling a sudden rush of warmth for Young. However much he screwed up his life, he could count on Young to multiply it by a thousand and add a theatrical flourish to the end, failing so spectacularly and conspicuously that everyone's attention was completely drawn away from Morgan. He nodded to the HR woman and took over icepack/face dabbing duties from her. She patted Young on the shoulder, told him not to give up on the woman of his dreams, and left them alone.

"So where the hell _were _you while I was heroically risking my life back there?" Young asked haughtily.

Morgan's face fell. "I'm sorry for leaving, I just felt funny. I had to get some air." He said quietly, unable to meet his eyes.

Young was silent for a while, trying to read his expression.

Finally he just said, "Man this is the worst Christmas party I've ever been to. I should have stayed in with the wife. Dear Mrs Sugar-Tits Young has probably got a nice dinner going for me on the stove. Well, if you count beer and a handjob as dinner." He narrowed his eyes and nodded vigorously. "Which I do."

He took a swig out of a small bottle of cheap vodka he'd snuck into the party with him.

Morgan looked confused. "Okay…I can't tell if you're concussed or if you're just deliberately talking shit to fuck with me."

Young gave a wry smile and looked at the floor. "Nah. I was just having a little joke. My life eh? Ha ha. Hilarious."

Morgan gave him a weird look.

"I think it's time we called it a night, don't you?" he said, confiscating the vodka bottle mid-swig.

Young stuck his bottom lip out in a forlorn pout, but then nodded in agreement.

Morgan phoned a cab for them to share and bundled Young inside. They dropped Young home, and Morgan, after propping him up until he reached his front door, got back into the cab. But when he leaned forward to give the cab driver his address he found himself reciting the address of Reid's apartment rather than his own.

Reid had left him the keys to look after so he was able to let himself in.

He turned the lights on and closed the door behind himself softly, wringing his hands with nervous energy. He wandered from room to room, treading lightly, looking at Reid's stuff but not touching it. He felt like an intruder but he couldn't bring himself to leave. He couldn't explain why he felt compelled to be here, when he knew Reid was long gone. It was like…if he couldn't be with Reid then at least he could be where he had been, sit where he'd sat, walk where his feet had flattened the carpet over the years.

He slipped his shoes off and padded into the bedroom. The ivory cotton duvet was pulled back and rumpled up. Reid obviously hadn't had time to make the bed that day. Morgan placed a hand in the slight impression of where he lay on the mattress, imagining it was warm, imagining Reid sleeping there. Imagining sleeping there next to him.

He took his hand away, feeling like a criminal and a stalker. _You have no right to be here. _

He made Reid's bed, smoothed the quilt and sat down on the edge at the right side. He unscrewed the lid off of Young's bottle of vodka and took a long drink to quell the surge of panic rising up inside him. The glugging sound of the vodka, the gulping sound his throat made when he swallowed, made him feel ill.

He felt so disgusting.

"How could I do this to you?" he asked the empty room, drunkenly, tears in his eyes. He was referring to Sean and the man he screwed at the party, but it occurred to him that he had asked himself that same question before. Right when this whole ugly, sordid mess first started.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered. He put the bottle down and started to press down on the bandage covering the cut on his hand. "_I'm so sorry Reid._" He said again, hardly able to speak, rocking backwards and forwards in pain. He dug his thumb inside the wound, feeling the weak scab split and the sore flesh start to weep again, but this time he didn't stop. He worked at it until the bandage was saturated and came off, falling onto the floor, and blood ran down between his fingers, dripping off onto his knees.

He lay back on the soft bed and let the blood fall onto his own clothes so he wouldn't stain Reid's furniture.

A strange feeling of calm settled in him, the weight of the gnawing guilt and shame lifted from his shoulders and his mind went blissfully blank. His conscience seemed to accept his blood sacrifice and allowed him to take a moment's respite.

He drifted into a better sleep than he'd had in months.

**...**

**Hello beautiful followers. I'm sorry for the wait for this chapter, I've been feeling quite ill recently and just a heads up, I might have to go to hospital for most of next week. I know that sounds bad but it's not really. I mean I'm like 99% confident that I will not die from it, but with the state of our NHS at the moment it's hard to say for sure. Some poor guy literally died of thirst in a hospital because the nurses were too busy to get him a drink. o_O**

**Also apparently torturing myself over using the word 'sofa' was totally pointless because Americans use it too xD thank you for putting my mind at ease.**

**Ooh and in exciting news, patriciacarson has kindly offered to translate The Faraday Case into French so that non-english speaking readers can read it! So if anybody knows any French Criminal Minds slash fans point them in this direction: **

**********'L'affaire Faraday': **** s/9040361/1/L-affaire-Faraday**

******Wow the title looks so nice in French! ^^**

**Reviews~ **

**AlienTourist - Yeah the English population is like America in that respect, it's just that once foreigners settle down here they seem to absorb the same xenophobic British mentality as the natives. I knew an old Indian woman who dressed in a full on sari every day, who moved to England, lived next door to us for two years and by the time we moved away she was honest to God the biggest racist you ever met, always going on about the horrible illegal immigrants taking jobs from taxpaying citizens. It's a British thing idk xD we just don't like change.**

** Von Monroe -wow you're enthusiastic xD very glad to hear that you looooooooooooooooovvvvvvvvvv vveeeeeeeeeeeeee my story! **

**Nikita Lake - Aww I'm glad you liked that paragraph so much! Thanks for pointing out the bit you liked :) **

**alleykatz12 -I checked my favourites for you, and this oneshot is very funny and adorable s/7030014/1/ and this is a sweet story about when they first met and where Morgan hates Reid but Reid tries to seduce him and it's quite cute. s/5777369/1/ I don't have any longer ones, sorry. I don't tend to read fanfiction of a fandom I'm writing for because if it's too well written I get jealous and lose confidence xD Hope you like these two anyway x**

**Hisuiko - Aww your comment was lovely! I'm trying very hard to handle this story sensitively. And I want to leave people with an overall feeling of hope, even at the darkest points in the story. **

**Nice to know my foreshadowing is being appreciated ;D you must tell me what you picked up on and if you were correct!**

**Undertaker Lau - Aww bless. xD You sound so worried about Derek. I'm sorry! He's going to get better I promise! (Eventually. ^^)**

**racbec - I'm glad you liked the scene between Morgan and the girls! :) I was worried I made Morgan's outburst a little too overemotional for him, like normally he would never let somebody see how much they'd hurt him, and in that scene he was almost using that hurt as a weapon against them. But it felt right to me anyway since he was really pushed to his limits by what they did, taking away Reid (his coping mechanism), and unleashing his demons. **

**Thank you for your compliments. :)**


	32. Chapter 32

**Warning: This chapter involves a scene of self-harm which might be triggering.**

**Songs for this chapter: ****The Loss ~ Hollywood Undead**

He flew up to Chicago the next day to be with his mom and his sisters. Dread settled in his stomach like a stone the whole journey there. Not being harsh on his family, he loved them all to death. It was just that he was not looking forward to looking into his mother's eyes, knowing that less than 24 hours ago he'd let a co-worker fuck him under a table, with his bosses making small talk in the very next room. Her baby boy.

And the effort it took to act normal and Christmassy for them was excruciating.

His mom sussed within an hour of his arrival that something was up with him. He could tell by the way she kept glancing at him when she thought he wasn't looking. He knew he was being much quieter than he usually was. Usually he was the one getting everybody into the party mood, but today he was cutting up potatoes in silence. When his sisters went to watch TV she asked him if he was feeling alright.

"Yeah mama I'm good." He lied.

"Rough case huh?" she guessed. "You can tell me about it."

He shook his head. "I can't." he said simply after a long while.

"Okay." She said gently.

Thankfully something in his tone made her drop the conversation, she just gave his shoulder a loving touch and went back to the vegetables.

He got through it. That was the best there was to say about Christmas that year.

...

He limited his alcohol use to the weekends after Christmas. He kept up to peak function at work, almost overcompensating with ruthless efficiency so nobody could question what he was doing after hours or challenge him about being hung over. Though the drinking wasn't really the main objective anymore.

He'd found a new coping strategy. Or rather, returned to an old one.

He went out to a gay bar the first Friday night after he got back. Loud music and a whole bunch of loud people in even louder clothes. He turned quite a few heads when he walked through the door and it made him feel good, to be wanted and desired by so many people. It was ridiculously easy to get laid when you had an FBI badge (unless you happened to be Reid), but he rarely had to resort to that sort of tactic to attract the person he wanted.

What could he say? Other gay men seemed to like his kind of build.

He sauntered up to the bar and ordered a scotch, then turned and leant back on his bar stool, one foot up, one on the floor, to drink it lazily and make a sweep of the room. Select a target. Taking his time. Always cool and impassive on the outside, despite his nerves and the fact that there was a fucking civil war raging in his mind, his polarised emotions clashing violently and pulling him in six directions at once.

It didn't take too long to choose. He just had to make eye contact with the guy he wanted to know that his attention was welcome. A tall, well-built black guy. Slightly younger than Morgan, mid-twenties at the most. Wore a black tank top and a red bandana on his head. He was sitting with a group of guys, talking to a skinny but animated white guy in a faded band T-shirt but looking pretty uninterested in what he was saying. He caught onto Morgan's stare and smirked. Morgan raised an eyebrow but didn't smile back.

He hadn't even finished his scotch before the guy left the group and came swaggering up to him. He leaned next to Morgan with his elbows on the bar but didn't sit down.

"Dude I can't work out whether you want to fuck me or fight me." He teased.

Morgan chuckled. He pointed to the guy's bandana.

"That's a little risky in a place like this ain't it?"

He looked confused for a second but then laughed. "Oh yeah. What's red again? I don't even know. Man, they should really have lessons for this shit."

Morgan shrugged. "I don't know. Piercing? Fisting? Stay away from brown at least and you should be okay."

The guy laughed. "Yeah even I knew that one." He sat down and propped up his chin with his elbow. "Stupid system anyway." He continued. "I mean you could always just ask me what I like." He gave another smirk.

"Don't need to." Morgan said.

"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

"I already know exactly what you want." Morgan said, throwing back the rest of his scotch. He met the guy's eyes and held his gaze for a long time. This look was important. It turned an arrogant pick up line into an intriguing mystery. The guy scoffed at first but the confidence in Morgan's stare and posture made him think twice about dismissing it.

"How?" he asked curiously, after a long pause.

Morgan smirked. He was in.

"Buy me another drink and I'll tell you."

As he'd profiled, the guy wanted total control and dominance, liked it rough, and thrived on nicknames like 'daddy,' in bed to feed his fragile ego, caused by the loss of his own father who abandoned him in childhood.

He was exactly the type of guy Morgan needed.

They fucked in his mother's living room and damn near destroyed a lamp, a desk and a coffee table in the process. By the end Morgan was so covered in bruises that he'd have to make something up, but he didn't care at that point. This time wasn't like Sean, it wasn't like the guy from the office, this was planned and controlled, and it had taken place on his terms. And it had worked exactly how he'd wanted it to. He felt euphoric, validated. He thought about Reid and for the first time he didn't feel grief, he felt spite, satisfaction.

_This is who I am now. This is what you made me do._

Morgan took off right after. They didn't say goodbye, just exchanged looks from where the younger man lay sprawled on the couch smoking something which Morgan pretended not to notice was a joint. For the first time Morgan wasn't sure what the other man was thinking about him in that moment. He could take a guess, but he wasn't sure he wanted to.

A sick feeling rolled in as he walked back to his apartment through the bitter cold streets. He was only wearing a T-shirt but the temperature didn't seem to affect him.

_Did I really just do that?_

He hadn't even been drunk this time. It was so wrong, what he was doing, but he already knew he'd be going back for more.

He thought about Reid again. Suddenly he felt scared, so scared. Like maybe Reid's leaving was God, punishing him for his dirty rotten core, and for trying to hide it. For letting Buford do what he did for so long. For building his whole identity on a lie just to make himself feel normal.

And now…what he'd done was disgusting, unforgivable. Maybe now Reid would never come back to him. Maybe he'd die somewhere on the streets pumped full of Dilaudid, or even worse, he'd develop schizophrenia so badly that he'd never be the same Reid again. His Reid.

He gave a frustrated shout and bashed his fist into the side of an empty bus shelter. It hurt, but not enough, and he didn't know why but he forced himself to keep doing it, then he started hitting his forehead against it, shouting furious nonsense at himself and the word, not caring that he looked like a lunatic. The streets were pretty empty anyway.

Finally he realised this wasn't getting him anywhere and stopped, panting, leaning back against the shelter. Tears came to his eyes and he felt a tightening in his chest which he knew was an approaching panic attack, and suddenly he knew exactly what he needed to do to make it right.

As soon as he got home he headed straight for his bedroom, rifling frantically through the cupboards for his old pocket knife before locking himself in the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bath for a moment, opening the knife and staring at the blade, thinking through what he was about to do.

It had been such a long time, he didn't remember how he used to do it without making a mess.

Yeah. Another coping mechanism from his earlier days in life.

For years in college even after he escaped Buford's hold on him, he'd cut himself. Anything could set it off, struggling with an assignment, having to talk in class, anything. But when it came to sex, a concrete pattern set in. He'd get trashed and hook up with a hot single playmate at a frat party and be too drunk and horny to remember that the slightest movement, the slightest word his partner uttered which reminded him of something Buford did to him, brought the flashbacks which made him go rigid and cold.

He never asked the men to stop though, just lie there and took it. Like he had with Buford. Feeling so stupid.

He stood up and took off his T-shirt, and looked in the mirror.

The scars had faded now he'd fallen out of the pattern, when he'd realised he was worth more than Buford let him believe, when he began to feel stronger and more powerful than him, and his lifelong shame was replaced with nothing but contempt for the man who had abused him. He thought he'd left that life behind, buried it all two thousand foot deep in cement and moved on.

Nobody ever found out. He'd been clever with his cuts, putting them in places he could hide, or excuse as an accidental injury. He'd varied his methods too. He'd used the classic double edged blade mostly but dripping boiling water on his arm or sticking himself with pins, or just hacking away with scissors or whatever was closest worked as well.

Fairly regularly he'd harmed himself badly enough to go to the infirmary, nicked a wrong vessel or something and got freaked out by the amount of blood he'd lost. He'd always prepared excuses in advance though. By necessity he got very good at lying.

But there was one nurse there who started to look at him like she maybe knew, and one day she'd tentatively asked him whether he'd been having problems with the work or with friends. She even offered him a leaflet for counselling, but he'd flatly turned her down. Quite harshly. Said what the hell did she expect from the quarterback of the college team, and that football was a rough sport. She'd looked at him so pityingly that he wanted to hit her.

He realised he was shaking so he sat down again. He lifted the blade against the skin of his abdomen, just up and to the left from his navel. He drew it across lightly, getting a feel for it. He winced. The first time was always the most painful, he remembered.

The first time.

_The first time is always the most painful Derek, I promise it won't hurt so much next time. You've been such a good boy for me Derek. Why can't the other kids all be like you?_

He closed his eyes and forced the knife deep through his skin in one impulsive motion, too fast for instinct to make him flinch and ruin the satisfaction of the first incision. He let out a cry and then screamed through his teeth as he ripped the blade sideways, bit by bit between breaths until he'd formed a jagged line. Around two inches was all he could bear. He always forgot how fucking hard it was to cut flesh.

He sat trembling with adrenaline and watching the blood creep out of the wound.

All the intense emotions which had been ripping him apart were suddenly numb and detached from him. This pain was real. This pain was good, straightforward, purifying. He put a dressing on and then just sat on his couch marvelling at how good he felt. He waited for the endorphins to fade, and they did, but they left him with a feeling of calm which lasted. His mind hadn't been so unburdened in months.

And like that he was hooked. It was a sad kind of happiness, but he figured at least it was one worth living for.

...

**Hello! I'm sorry this chapter is so short, I thought it would be better to upload something than to leave you all waiting. I am out of hospital now and making a recovery but I'm easily tired and my mood has been awful lately so it's been difficult to get back into the writing groove. **

**Also sorry if this development is triggering for people, another thing I should have warned about in the description I guess...but even I didn't realise quite how screwed up Morgan is until Reid left, which got me thinking about how he would have coped back when Buford abused him. I felt like he'd find a new coping mechanism, and a guy like him would never let himself ruin his career by becoming an alcoholic, so it would have to be something secret and self-destructive.**

**Thanks to everybody who reviewed anyway, and for your support and well-wishes :) xxx**


	33. Chapter 33

**Song for this chapter: ****Gods And Monsters ~ Lana Del Rey**

**...**

***shuffles nervously out from behind tree***

**Hello! Sorry I've kept you waiting for...a while. Know that I have been suitably wracked with guilt every day that's passed me by without posting anything for my poor loyal readers.**

**...****Hope you're all well. ****'^^**

***points at chapter* look! A shiny thing!**

_One month later._

One month later and Morgan was still drowning. His life had simultaneously settled down and become a million times crazier; he just split his time between the two now. Split himself as well, it seemed sometimes.

While at work he was dependable, conscientious, good at his job.

And when he wasn't at work…well he wasn't exactly proud of what he became.

He was nearly late this morning. He'd made the very bad decision to stay over at a house party and had been woken up at 7am by the alarm on his cell, dazed, disoriented and suitably disturbed to find himself in bed with three other naked men. He'd had to climb over one of them to find his clothes in the dark, then get a cab back across town and shower and change and get to work by 8:30am. He'd managed it somehow, but it was difficult to shake off the fact that his memory of the night before was so blank he couldn't say 100% if he'd consented to some kind of orgy or if he'd been gang-raped.

Not that he really thought the second could have happened, but the realisation made him uneasy all the same. How drunk had he been that three guys at once had seemed like a good idea? It was so unlike anything he'd normally do, like waking up and finding that an alien had taken over his body for the night.

He was in such a rush when he got into work that he managed to walk straight into Garcia who was coming out of the bullpen texting on her phone, nearly flattening her with his momentum.

"Woah, sorry babygirl!" he said, grabbing her shoulders to keep her upright.

Garcia blinked at him and made various speechless noises and he realised he'd just called her babygirl for the first time since Reid left.

"You alright?" he asked gruffly, after an awkward pause.

"Yes." She said. "Uh…well a few bruises maybe. You're not the softest person to walk into."

"No." he agreed.

They looked at each other for a moment.

"Right." She said, at the same time he said "Okay."

She nodded and smiled, and he nodded and smiled back and then walked past her.

Hotch, who had seen the exchange, walked down the stairs to meet him.

"That's the friendliest I've seen you two look for a long time." He remarked. "Are you considering forgiving her?"

He hadn't been until just then.

"I don't know. Maybe, yeah." He said reluctantly. "I don't want to stay angry forever. And I know she only did what she did because she cared about us."

Hotch raised his eyebrows.

"Did I hear that right?" he asked.

"Yeah yeah, don't get too excited." Morgan muttered. "I'll think about it, that's all I'm saying."

"Well good, I'm glad to hear that." Hotch said warmly. "You know I have to admit, I was worried when you quit counselling but since you gave it up you've seemed…not better exactly, but you've seemed more in control, more like you've accepted what's happening. So maybe I was wrong. Maybe you do need to handle this on your own terms. Anyway…I'm glad." He said, then tagged on a barely audible, mumbled: "Proud of you." before walking upstairs to his office.

Morgan rubbed his cut-up arm self-consciously and wondered whether Hotch would still be proud of him if he'd seen the state he was in when he woke up that morning.

"Thank you sir." He said with a weak smile.

"Oh and I was just coming to tell you we've got a case, so I need you all at the round table for 8:45." Hotch said over his shoulder.

"Sure. I'll round everyone up." Morgan replied.

…

At 9:00 they were midway through the briefing and even with the effects of a double espresso hammering through his nervous system, Morgan was having a hard time staying awake.

He listened to the case details listlessly, mostly remaining quiet while his colleagues discussed the M.O. and worked out a preliminary profile. He had a few idle thoughts of his own but they didn't seem that important and he couldn't be bothered to share them yet. He stared at the table, feeling the impending hangover start to throb in his head.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Erin Strauss with a nervous, bespectacled brunette girl in tow.

"Good morning agents. Since you're all gathered here I thought I'd come and introduce your new team member personally, Lauren Sparrow this is your unit chief Aaron Hotchner and supervisory special agents David Rossi, Derek Morgan…"

"Woah hold up a minute, are you kidding me!?" Morgan exclaimed sharply. Lauren Sparrow visibly flinched at his tone. The name Sparrow was quite apt as she reminded him of a small bird, shy and slight, all feathers and beak and hollow bones. She had a certain way of looking around the room, where her head moved jerkily like a bird looking for predators.

If she was supposed to be Reid's replacement then he sure wasn't going to be impressed.

He was about to vocalise this thought in a way that probably wouldn't do his career any favours when Hotch stood up, a dark expression on his face.

"You said she'd start on Monday." He said angrily. "We agreed, you'd let me tell my team first."

Strauss didn't even blink. "Well yes we did, but since you're starting a new case today I thought it was the perfect timing. Dr Sparrow has been waiting for over a year for a position to open up on this team and although Dr Reid's resignation was regrettable, we can't afford to be sentimental about replacing him when he's made it perfectly clear that he isn't going to change his mind."

Morgan was struck speechless by her ability to be so cold about it. For a moment Hotch looked like he was going to shout at her, but at the last second he regained composure.

"Ma'am, can we please talk about this outside for a moment?" he said through gritted teeth.

Strauss tutted. "Fine, but I have a meeting so make it quick."

They left the room and Morgan followed without invitation, making Sparrow flinch again as he passed her.

He crashed into Hotch's office, making them both look up in surprise.

"When the hell did you two decide this!?" he snapped.

They looked at each other.

"When was this decision made!?" he repeated.

"About a week ago." Hotch said.

"He hasn't even been gone for two months yet! We don't need her!"

"I appreciate your input but that isn't your decision to make, Agent Morgan." Strauss bristled.

"Whose was it then? Cause I bet it wasn't Hotch, was it? I bet he told you the exact same thing."

She didn't reply.

Morgan pressed a hand to his temples and laughed bitterly. "Whose pet is she then? Some friend of the director's? How much did they pay out to get her in?"

"Watch what you say agent." Strauss snapped. "You may have been part of this team for a while but don't think that makes _you_ irreplaceable."

Morgan laughed again and for an insane moment he was about to tell her he quit, but Hotch jumped in ahead of him, almost like he knew.

"This is why I asked you to let me break it to them in a more sensitive way. Reid was very important to everybody on this team." He said.

_Was?_

"I'm well aware of that, but I expect a certain level of professionalism from agents of the FBI. I hope your team doesn't always question your authority in matters like these." She said threateningly.

"Of course we don't!" Morgan snapped. "All we're asking for is a little warning! Who even _is_ this girl? Where the hell did she come from? Is she even qualified to do Reid's job?"

"At the age of 20 Agent Sparrow has already gained a PhD and passed top of her class from the academy. I assure you she is more than capable. See for yourself."

Strauss handed him her file. He read it quickly, a scowl on his face as he saw that Strauss was right. Sparrow wasn't anything like Reid but she was clearly a prodigy of some sort.

Suddenly he was so mad, at Strauss, Hotch, Sparrow, everybody. He missed Reid so much it was like being kicked in the stomach. He had known on some level that eventually they'd need a replacement braniac, but not this soon, not while he was still being torn apart with sadness. Seeing that girl in Reid's place every day would be even worse than not having anyone there at all. He wasn't ready to move on and now it seemed that everyone else was having no trouble doing just that.

He thrust the document across the desk into Hotch's hands.

"That's it then!? We're the ones who're gonna be putting our lives in her hands every day and we don't even get a _say_ in this!?" he spat accusingly. "I thought you didn't do office politics?"

Hotch didn't reply. He was staring at Morgan. For a second Morgan thought he was upset by what he'd just said, but then he followed Hotch's gaze down to the white document in his hand, and the splashes of blood he'd left on them.

He looked down at his hand to see a trickle of red leaking from his sleeve, snaking around his palm and dripping off his fingertips. He jerked his arm back and grabbed his forearm to try and stem the bleed. There was a red stain spreading out and showing through his white sleeve.

"What the…?" Strauss said, irritated. "Oh for goodness sake I know you don't approve of the candidate but did you have to _bleed_ on her file? That's an official document! I'll have to send off for another copy now, you know what health and safety are like about blood."

Hotch looked at him, a concerned frown on his face.

"Sorry." Morgan muttered. "I'll go get this fixed."

He left quickly before Hotch could tell him to wait.

…

He went to his locker and changed into his spare shirt after replacing the bandage on his forearm, trying desperately to come up with a convincing domestic accident to explain to Hotch why he was bleeding when they hadn't been in the field for days.

Then he went back to the briefing room and sat down. Hotch and Strauss were still talking.

His eyes flitted to the new girl, who was still standing just inside the doorway, unsure where to put herself since no one was giving her direction.

Morgan stared at her accusingly, though part of him knew it probably wasn't her fault. She came across as a naïve academic fresh from the FBI academy, who most likely had the misfortune to be indebted to somebody rich and well-connected who wanted a finger in the particularly sought-after pie that was the BAU, and was pulling on Strauss's strings to get her to put her in early.

_I am not going to like you. _He communicated this thought to her with his most intimidating glare.

She looked uncomfortable and avoided his eyes, straightening her tweed knee-length skirt self-consciously.

Garcia was the first to snap out of the awkward, slightly stunned silence and extend a welcoming hand for her to shake. Sparrow took it with a grateful smile and Garcia started chatting away to her like she was an old friend. Even though Morgan knew it was just part of Garcia's personality, and that she was just trying to rescue an awkward situation, he still felt betrayed.

Hotch walked back in, looking extremely annoyed. His eyes connected with Morgan's and Morgan tried not to look away but he couldn't help it. He was pretty sure Hotch knew.

"Welcome to the team Agent Sparrow." Hotch said politely. "Have a seat I guess."

She smiled shyly and nodded. She looked around for a seat and looked amusingly frightened to discover that the only free seat was next to Morgan. She took it, looking down at the table the whole time in an attempt to fake obliviousness to his hostility, but her blush gave away her discomfort.

Hotch introduced her to each team member, his voice becoming a little despairing when he reached Morgan and it became clear that Morgan had no intention of shaking her hand, or responding to her presence with anything other than a grunt.

Rossi offered to get her a coffee to break the awkward silence. She nodded and smiled that pathetic, irritating humbly-grateful smile.

Morgan scowled. _Don't get comfortable little bird._ He thought.

…

Lo and behold, half a day and one less psychotic serial murderer for society later Morgan was getting ready to go home and then out for the night (he needed a drink and a good shag badly after the day he'd had) when Young came by the bullpen.

"Hey." Morgan said tensely, knowing that he was almost certainly there on Hotch's request.

"Hey yourself." Young said chirpily. "It's been a month and you haven't answered any of my calls. Call me paranoid but I'm _starting_ to think you're avoiding me."

"Sorry. I've been busy." Morgan shrugged and started towards the exit.

"I gathered." Young smiled, walking beside him. "Look, you know just because you fired me doesn't mean we can't still be friends right?"

Morgan nodded. "Sure." He said uncertainly.

"Great." Young gave a wry smile. "So uh…what've you been doing with yourself lately then?"

Morgan shrugged again.

Young changed tack. "How was your first case with the brilliant Miss Sparrow? Is she everything they're saying she is?"

Morgan grunted. "She did okay." He admitted begrudgingly. "It's early days."

"Must be hard on you having her around though." Young said.

"I gotta go man, I'm sorry." Morgan said, itching to get away.

"Where you going?" Young asked. "I thought maybe we could go for a drink. Catch up."

"I'm…" Morgan tried to think up a convincing lie. He failed and decided just to tell the truth. "I'm already going for a drink. But I'm not looking for company. I'm sorry."

Young frowned. "You're going drinking by yourself?"

Morgan glared at him and pressed the button for the elevator. "Yeah? So what?"

"Nothing. I just…I don't think you should be alone tonight that's all. What with Sparrow and everything."

Morgan couldn't help smirking at the floor.

"Oh I won't be alone." He said, quirking his eyebrow meaningfully.

Young raised his eyebrows. "Oh! Right. You're…seeing someone then? That's…um…what's his name?"

"I don't know." Morgan laughed at Young's naiveté as they stepped into the elevator. "I haven't met him yet."

Understanding dawned on Young's face and he slapped a hand against his forehead.

"Ah! I get what you…ah. Right. Okay." He paused for a second. "So I'm guessing that's what you meant by 'busy'?"

"Stop it." Morgan said bluntly.

"What?" Young asked.

"You're not my shrink anymore."

"Can't a man enquire into another man's sex life simply by way of friendly conversation?"

"Nope." Morgan said firmly.

Young sighed. "Okay look I know you don't want to hear this but I'm gonna say it anyhow; binge drinking, promiscuity and self-destructive behaviour, you gotta admit Derek, from where I'm standing it's not looking good."

Morgan laughed. "Promiscuity huh? I'm being a naughty boy am I Doctor?"

Young didn't laugh.

Morgan got irritated. "Look, this isn't exactly new for me, I've always done this, even before…it's just how I am, okay? I'm a guy, I like sex, I go out and have sex. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. It sounds perfectly healthy to me."

"It is."

"Nothing at all to be ashamed of."

"That's right." Morgan nodded.

"So you won't mind me coming along to observe then."

Lulled into a false sense of security, Morgan was half-way to agreeing with him before he realised exactly what he'd just said. "Not at-_excuse me!?_"

Young laughed. "I don't mean observe you doing _that. _I mean as your wing-man kind of thing."

"_Why?_" Morgan asked incredulously.

"Why not? It's what young men do isn't it?" Young nudged him with his elbow and put on a fake southern accent. "Go down to the local honky-tonk and drink whiskey 'til the whole joint's a-singin', then lasso ourselves a couple o' hot young fillies to dosey-doe the night away with, before we hit the road again two wandering souls with nothing but the faithful beasts between our legs and the taste of freedom on our tongues."

Morgan shook his head incredulously. "I...wow. You could not have made that sound more like the plot of Brokeback Mountain if you'd tried could you?"

"Yeah…" Young winced. "I actually haven't seen any other Westerns so that was a bad choice of metaphor."

Morgan nodded in agreement. The elevator doors opened and they walked to Morgan's car.

"Just so we're clear, you realise there are no women at this bar right? What exactly are you planning to gain from this exercise?" Morgan asked with a smirk. "Or is there something you're not telling me?"

It was Young's turn to glare.

Morgan gave a fake gasp. "The thing with Prentiss…oh my gosh it all makes sense now!"

"The fact that you're trying to make me uncomfortable about this tells me that actually _you're_ the one uncomfortable with somebody you know accompanying you into this environment. Shall we analyse the reasons behind this, or would you like to shut up about my sexuality?" Young asked pleasantly.

"Get in the car."

…

An hour or so later they were standing by the bar waiting for their second round of drinks (both men's first drinks had disappeared at a surprisingly swift rate) and Young was trying very hard not to flinch whenever anyone looked at him.

"This place seems…friendly. Nice atmosphere." He remarked.

Morgan grunted.

"And I like what they've done with the décor too, you know gay bars have a reputation for going OTT on the sparkles but I think they've got it just right. And the phallus shaped cocktail stirrers are a nice touch."

Morgan massaged his forehead, debating whether getting laid was actually worth going through this.

"Aww shit yours is bigger." Young said indignantly, picking it out of his drink and holding them up next to each other. "That's…unsettling. Do you think they're making some kind of point?"

"Yes Young, the gays have had a secret meeting to come up with subtle ways of making you insecure about your manhood." Morgan snapped.

"No need for sarcasm." Young huffed.

There was a pause.

"So…are you getting any signals? Have you seen one you like? How does this work, is there a courtship ritual?"

Morgan fought the urge to slap him.

"Quit acting like this is a wildlife documentary."

"Sorry. To be honest, even if we were in a heterosexual bar this stuff isn't really in my field of expertise." Young confessed. "Ooh look, him! Over there! That blonde guy, he just looked at you like you were a slice of chocolate pie. Is he a good one?" He asked, pointing at him enthusiastically.

Morgan slapped his hand down and turned his back to the guy Young was referring to.

"Will you pipe down? I don't need your help! I just need you to shut up and look as much as possible like we aren't a couple."

"Right." Young agreed. "I can get behind that plan." He paused. "Speaking of behind…"

Morgan felt a hand on his elbow and turned around to see...

Hotch's brother Sean.

_Shit._

"Oh hey, I thought that was you!" Sean smiled. "How're you doing? Who's this?"

"Hey…uh, this is Adam Young. He's an old buddy of Hotch…I mean of Aaron's."

"We were roommates at the FBI academy." Young shook his hand. "And you are?"

"Oh hi! Sean Hotchner, Aaron's brother. I don't remember seeing you at the graduation ceremony."

"Oh yeah…I didn't technically graduate. Long story. I'm a shrink now instead." Young explained.

"Right." Sean looked back and forth between them as if trying to figure out their relationship. "So are you two…having fun?"

"Not really." Young complained. "Typical man; he's only after one thing. Not interested in conversation at all."

"Oh…" Sean looked amused. "Been there." He joked, giving Morgan a friendly touch on the arm to show him it was a joke.

"_Really?"_ Young raised his eyebrows and turned to look at Morgan, giving him a smile which had 'future blackmail material' written all over it. "Tell me more about this anecdote."

"Uh we're not together." Morgan told Sean hastily before he could elaborate.

"Why would you say that honey? Don't I mean anything to you?" Young whined. "You see what I mean Sean? The man is allergic to commitment."

"He's straight." Morgan explained as the bartender handed him their drinks. "He's just here to annoy me, and because he is a _very lonely and desperate individual_."

"Guilty as charged on all three counts." Young smiled and raised his glass.

Sean laughed. "Aww, don't worry, I kinda like my men lonely and desperate."

Young put an arm around Sean's neck. "Hold me." He said. Sean laughed and gave him a hug. "See?" Young said to Morgan. "_Somebody_ loves me."

"How much has he had to drink?" Sean asked.

"Uh…actually for once not an awful lot. He's just strange." Morgan smiled.

Sean smiled back.

"I'm actually here with a group, do you two want to join us?"

"Sure." Morgan nodded, abandoning hope of getting laid now, since it would be weird to hit on other men in front of a previous one night stand. And part of him didn't want Sean to know that he was like that anyway.

So Sean introduced them to his friends, a group of four guys and one girl. One of the guys and the girl spent most of the time making out and two of the guys were holding hands and talking amongst themselves, so most of the conversation was carried by Sean and the remaining single gay guy, Kyle.

They talked about work mainly, Kyle and Sean both worked in the same restaurant. But as everybody got more drunk Kyle started flirting pretty overtly with Morgan, talking about how muscular he was in a very…hands on fashion, which Morgan could see made Sean uncomfortable.

Sean kept giving him these glances and then looking away when he looked back, and suddenly the prospect of getting laid didn't seem totally off the table anymore. In his slightly inebriated state Morgan was considering it. Making the horrible mistake of screwing his boss's brother. Again.

Kyle asked him to dance and he felt like it would be rude and awkward to turn him down, so he did for a bit. He was a good dancer, and he was pretty good looking but he wasn't Morgan's type, too short and slim and feminine. He tried it on with Morgan part way through the first song but he tactfully told him that he wasn't interested. After that it was kind of awkward to keep dancing together so Kyle went off to talk to somebody else.

Morgan looked back at their table and saw that Sean was gone. His jacket was still there though so he hadn't left the club.

Morgan found Sean in the restroom combing his hair in front of the mirror with his fingers, frowning critically. Morgan smiled.

"Looks fine from where I'm standing." He said with a grin. Sean turned around, looking slightly flustered.

"Thank you." He said quietly with a half-smile, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans and standing awkwardly. His whole demeanour had changed, becoming vaguely defensive.

He went to head for the door but Morgan stopped his near shoulder with one hand and leaned in to say quietly, "In case you were interested, I told your friend he wasn't my type."

"So…? Why are you telling me?" Sean shrugged a little coldly.

Morgan chuckled. "Oh I don't know, how about 'cause I don't want you thinking my eyes are on anyone but you tonight? And as perfect as it is, your hair ain't the reason." He raised a hand and brushed part of Sean's golden fringe behind his ear.

Sean gave a sceptical chuckle and shook his head slightly, looking at the floor.

"What? You don't believe me?" Morgan moved his hand to the back of Sean's neck.

"I believe you had my phone number, you knew where I worked _and _where I lived, and you made no effort to contact me before tonight."

"Maybe I'm shy." Morgan said playfully.

"Maybe you're an opportunistic jerk." Sean said looking up at him.

Morgan let go of him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that to sound so harsh." Sean's voice softened. "It's just that I know the only person you really care about is Reid. Anybody else is just a substitute. We used each other as substitutes once, but I have too much self-respect to let it keep happening."

Morgan didn't reply.

Sean sighed. "Not that you don't. I'm not judging you. It's none of my business what you do to get over him. But it won't be with me."

"Yeah. Message received." Morgan said coldly, walking out.

Fed up and humiliated, he headed straight to the table, picked up his jacket and told Young he was leaving. Young, who was sitting in the lap of one of the two guys who were a couple while being fed crisps by the girl, looked disappointed.

"Aww I don't wanna go yet! I'm making lots of gay friends! Look, I'm sitting on one! He's called Jeffrey!" Young informed him, slurring his words so much Morgan only understood a third of what he said.

"Actually it's Paul." The guy said. Young turned around, looking shocked.

"So it is! Where did Jeffrey go?"

Morgan gave up on him and left. A few seconds later Young caught up with him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong." Morgan snapped.

"So why did we have to leave?"

"I got bored." Morgan said sourly.

"Is this because you and Sean slept together?"

"We never slept together. He was joking about that." Morgan said.

"Oh was it meant to be a secret? Cause he kind of told me everything while you were dancing with Kyle, sorry. He also had some excellent tips for getting a soufflé to rise evenly. Discretion may not be his forte but his cooking advice is solid."

Morgan considered denying it but he knew there was no point.

"Breathe a word of this to Hotch and your life will not be worth living." He said simply.

"Noted." Young replied. "So what happened back there with Sean?"

"I hit on him…he knocked me back." Morgan shrugged.

"Ouch. I'm guessing that doesn't happen to you very often?"

"It's not that. I just…he said some stuff which got under my skin. About how I was just using him as a substitute for..." he trailed off.

"You already knew that's what you were doing though right?"

"Yeah. It just sounded more pathetic coming from him, that's all."

"It's not pathetic." Young said. "Give yourself a break. It's not a crime to miss him y'know."

Morgan stopped walking and sighed.

"Why did you really insist on coming with me tonight?" he asked.

Young hesitated.

"Honestly?" he scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. "Hotch told me he thinks you're harming yourself."

Morgan nodded. "Thought so." He said wearily.

"And I don't really need to ask if you're cutting yourself to know that you're self-harming. This whole process, going out and shagging anything that walks, it would be fine if I thought you were actually doing it for fun." Young said gently. "But you're doing it as a punishment. You're doing it because you think it's what you deserve. It's beyond twisted. And you're beyond wrong. You don't deserve to be in pain Derek. Reid wouldn't want this for you."

Morgan nearly broke down when he said that, had to fight himself real hard not to let it show. He couldn't handle Young looking at him like this, he couldn't breathe.

"Yeah, look, I think I'm gonna go home. Are you okay to get a cab?" he asked.

"Sure." Young said, his voice soft and sympathetic. "Take care of yourself."

Morgan nodded and turned to leave, not really listening. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"See you." Young said.

As soon as he was out of sight Morgan called a very old college friend Marty he'd hooked up with a couple of times before, who was bad news and exhausting company but had a handy knack of being at the centre of things. Sure enough he and his current group of drugged up disciples were at a music gig at a venue which was pretty nearby.

He didn't know if this was a good idea, but he definitely knew he wasn't going home like he told Young. He needed to keep moving, keep drinking and maintaining this frantic pace, because his instincts told him that if he stopped and looked behind him even for a second, something very bad would catch up with him.

… [**Song - Radioactive ~ Imagine Dragons]**

_Buford pushed open the heavy wooden door and gestured inside the old wood cabin. It smelt strange, musty but also like chemicals or bleach or something, like he'd been scrubbing the walls with it. _

"_Well, here we are Derek. Finally we can be alone again, just the two of us. Are you hungry? I got some of that pizza you liked last time…and there's ice cream for dessert! We could have a couple of beers and watch the game now if you like?" The taller man's hand was caressing the back of his neck like a hungry snake and the boy tried so hard to like it, to bury the doubts that were creeping up inside him. _

"_I thought you said Joey and Rylan were coming with us this time?" he asked, his fingers playing nervously with one of the frayed tassels on his old rust-red hooded sweatshirt._

"_Hmm? Sure. They were supposed to come with us but Joey's sick and Rylan lost all his activity tokens at club last night because he wouldn't put the chairs away like I asked him to." Buford set his bag down and walked around opening windows._

_The boy stayed in the doorway. Buford turned to look at him._

"_What's up?"_

"_Nothing, I just…I don't want to get drunk."_

_Buford laughed. "I would never let you get drunk! What would your mother say? It's just a couple of beers."_

_The boy squirmed uncomfortably. "Carl?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Are we here to…to do the same thing as last time?"_

_Buford walked over to him, his wide smile frozen on his face. _

"_I thought you said you liked it last time."_

_The boy looked at the floor. "Well…"_

"_Were you lying to me? What kind of person allows someone to touch them under false pretences?"_

"_No! I just…I wanted to make you…happy."_

_Buford squeezed his shoulder and shook it playfully. "You did make me happy Derek. Very very happy. Don't you want that again?"_

"_I just don't see why it has to be this way." The boy said quietly._

_Buford smiled. "I love you Derek. Everyone looks at you and sees a waste of space troublemaker but I look at you and I can see how special you really are. I'm trying to get other people to see it too but you have to help me. You have to change. I love you but you have to change Derek." _

"_I'm trying." The boy's eyes filled up. Buford touched his cheek tenderly._

"_I know you are. Come here you silly boy." He said, pulling him into a hug. "I love you so much Derek, you know that don't you?"_

"_Love you too Carl." The boy said, words muffled into Buford's neck._

"_Call me what I asked you to." Buford said playfully._

_There was a long pause._

"_Love you too dad." He mumbled._

Gasping for air, he woke up from his dream half-suffocated and drenched in sweat, somehow still upright in the heaving underground ocean of human bodies, head tilted back, staring up at the lights on the ceiling as he sucked the humid air into his lungs.

_I must have passed out. _He realised, stumbling desperately through the crowd towards the club's exit. For a few seconds he couldn't remember how he'd got here, who he was with or what day it was. This feeling was too surreal to just be alcohol.

Finally he got out into the street and bumped into Marty, smoking a cigarette and necking vodka and a scantily clad blonde girl at alternate intervals.

"Did you spike my fucking drink?" he asked with a snarl.

"Chill dude," Marty mumbled with a stupid grin. "it was just a bit of speed. You looked like you needed it. Hey you seen…whatshisname…the one with the weed? Jared, Gerard…something with a 'J' in it."

"This isn't speed dumbass." Morgan muttered, collapsing against the cool concrete and closing his eyes to stop the world shrinking. "I think you gave me LSD."

"Oh crap that means Lindsay's got the speed. She's gonna be _pissed_." Marty moaned.

"You realise I'm an FBI agent right?" Morgan snapped. "Technically I could have you arrested."

"HAHA bite me, fucker. I'm invincible!" Marty stuck his middle finger up and laughed manically before turning his attention back to his girlfriend's tongue piercing.

…

"…so to answer your previous question serial killers tend to preselect a type of victim, while classic mass murderers and spree killers will murder whichever human targets present themselves." Morgan explained to the new class of students they were lecturing as part of their induction day program.

Once he finished the basics Rossi stepped up and took over while Morgan clicked the mouse of the laptop to move the slides of the presentation along. He wished he could sit down, he had a headache and the walls were still slightly liquid and his legs were getting tired.

These presentations were much less hassle and more fun when they had Reid to do the memorising for them, and could just sit back and interject with anecdotes or tease the young doctor when he went off on a tangent.

Also when he wasn't coming down from an accidental psychedelic drug trip. That was nice too.

He went to scratch his forearm as it was itching like a motherfucker, but he stopped himself. When he'd done that at home before he'd managed to scratch a scab off and bleed all over everything. Cutting his arm was a mistake, he knew, something he'd really regret when summer came around, but he was already running out of wound-free places on his torso and he couldn't help himself.

The thing dragged on and on. He did some more talking about specialising in explosives and obsessional crimes. It went okay. He was naturally a pretty good public speaker so it didn't really matter that he was on another planet the whole time. He'd taken to going on autopilot and escaping into fantasy during the day to cope with the feeling of being trapped like a rat in a glass box, claustrophobic and on display for people to prod at and study. JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Hotch...God he hated working with profilers sometimes. He knew it was harsh of him but he couldn't help feeling like he was being crushed by the weight of their concern for him. He felt almost emasculated by their pity, and the more they tried to help the more it infuriated him.

Inside his head was the one place he didn't need to put on an act all day, where he was in control. He thought about a man he'd been with the night before, another friend of Marty's, after they'd taken the party back to the block of flats he and a few others appeared to be squatting in. He recalled every detail of the confused LSD-fuelled sex they'd had on an old futon, the way the skin of his neck tasted when Morgan trapped it between his teeth, and how he could see the music as a winding snake of glowing mist on the ceiling above them the whole time. And how at the time that hadn't seemed at all strange to him, like he'd always known that that was what music looked like, he'd just forgotten it until then.

He knew it was wrong but part of him got off on the fact that the people around him didn't know about this beautifully sordid Dorian Gray-style secret double life he was living as his reckless nocturnal alter-ego free from all feeling and conscience. It made him feel more in control to have a secret no one knew about.

The problem with his secret life of hollow decadence was that it was getting harder and harder for Dr Jekyll to put Mr Hyde back in his box at the end of the night. His nights were getting later and later, he was frequently going to work sleep-deprived and hung over. Some days he was pretty sure his blood was at least 50% caffeine with the amount of coffee he drank to keep himself awake. He knew he was bound to slip up soon, make a dangerous mistake that would cost him his life or his career. It was only a matter of time. Sometimes he wondered how fucked up he had to be in the head that that thought was almost comforting to him now.

After they finished the talk he stuck around for a minute but since most of the questions the students had were for Rossi, he left early and went back to his desk to work.

On her break Garcia came over, handing out coffees to everybody from a tray. He considered giving her the brush off but somehow he couldn't summon up the resolve any more. It just seemed petty and mean and hurting her feelings wouldn't bring Reid back to him. Had he forgiven her, he wondered, remembering Hotch's question. He couldn't tell. He still resented what they'd done. Maybe he was just getting placid now he had a new coping strategy in place.

"Thanks." He said with a small smile.

"You're welcome." She said, cheerfully nervous. "There's a birthday cake in the other office if you want some. Sparrow just turned 21. Ain't that cute? When I was her age I was living in a hostel wearing Doc Martens and a black leather trench coat and spending all day playing RPGs. She's a nice girl but boy does she make me feel old."

"This must be how it feels to be Rossi." Morgan joked.

"I heard that." Came Rossi's peeved voice from behind them, where he had just ventured out of his office to forage for the rumoured birthday cake. They laughed.

"Wow, I don't think I've seen you smile since…" Garcia cut herself off in the middle of her sentence and looked guilty, as if she was scared to remind him in case it ended his rare good humour.

"Yeah." He said quietly. She gave him a sympathetic smile and put her hand on his shoulder gently. He placed his hand over hers and smiled.

"It's good to have you back." She said warmly. He nodded.

She picked up her tray again and went to leave before turning around.

"Oh I forgot to ask you, did you like your present?"

"Present? Oh! I haven't had a chance to…I put it in my desk for safe keeping." He opened his desk drawer and pulled out the forgotten Christmas present. He tore the paper off carefully.

She'd made him a kind of mini-poster, framed and decorated in typical Garcia fashion with sparkles and sequins, with a Vonnegut quote spelled out in a graphic font in the centre.

The quote she'd picked was a line from Slaughterhouse 5:

"_All __time __is all time. It does not change. It does not lend itself to warnings or explanations. It simply is.__Take it moment by moment, and you will find that we are all, as I've said before, bugs in amber._"

He stared at it, unsure how to react. Garcia looked at him.

"Well? Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful." He said. It was.

"Yay! I'm glad." She smiled. "I wanted to make something you could hang up and look at every day and remind yourself that Penelope Garcia loves you."

"So what does it mean?" he asked.

"Well you're the literary superfan! You tell me!" she smiled.

"No I mean why did you pick that quote?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I asked Prentiss which one she thought you'd like…she came up with a few and this was the easiest to illustrate. And I kind of like the bit about being bugs in amber. I don't know why."

"Yeah me too." He said, imagining himself as a bug suspended in a cold yellow block. The image had always tickled him. "I love it. Thank you."

"You're welcome." She smiled and left him.

He stared at the quote some more, trying to remember how that passage went. He did an internet search and found it.

_Billy licked his lips, thought a while, inquired at last: "Why me?"__  
__"That is a very __Earthling __question to ask, Mr. Pilgrim. Why __you__? Why __us __for that matter? __Why __anything__? Because this moment simply __is__. __Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?"__  
__"Yes." Billy, in fact, had a paperweight in his office which was a blob of polished amber with three ladybugs embedded in it.__  
__"Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. __There is no __why__.__"_

...

Later that same evening, or perhaps the following morning he was lying on his back on one of those porch swings, with his head on a friend's lap. He had no idea whose house he was at and he was at that pleasant stage of being drunk where he really didn't care because his brain felt like a fish, flopping around on dry land and then being swept over by a wave. Some other people were sitting on the porch with duvets and blankets, drinking and talking and getting high. Earlier one guy had brought out a ukulele and started to strum out classic rock anthems on the chirpy little instrument and everyone had laughed and sang along. That guy left an hour or so before.

It occurred to him that the first time he'd ever been this drunk was when Buford took him on a camping trip. They built a fire together and cooked on it, sausages and spaghetti with tomato sauce. Buford let him have a beer with the meal and then told him to 'stick to lemonade.'

"_I don't know why I'm…*hic* so wobbly. Only had…one beer." He giggled as Buford helped him stagger into the tent. He played it up a little, falling against the older man, enjoying the attention._

"_It's okay, I won't tell anyone. Just take your clothes off and lie down." Buford reassured him._

_The boy stripped down to his underwear. He couldn't be bothered to put on pyjamas so he got into his sleeping bag as he was. He was halfway to sleep when he felt Buford lie down next to him and put his arms around him from behind. It struck him as weird but he didn't wriggle away. He quite liked the warmth and was so flattered by the special attention he'd been getting lately that he wouldn't want to spoil things by telling Buford he was uncomfortable._

_Then the boy felt Carl's hand slide into his sleeping bag. He opened his eyes and lay there like a stone as it traced his side from his shoulder to his hip. His heart sped up, instinct warning him what he desperately didn't want to believe._

_For a while the hand stayed there and he started to think maybe it wasn't what he'd assumed, maybe Carl just thought this was normal. Maybe it was normal. He didn't have a dad anymore, how was he supposed to know?_

_But then Carl started touching him lower down, first just stroking his thigh. Then his large hand was cupping him down there, and the breathing on his ear became erratic and laboured. It took him a second before he realised exactly what was going on and even then for some reason he still didn't move, paralysed by embarrassment and mortification, like some part of him believed that if he just stayed still he could pretend it wasn't happening. _

_He felt the unwelcome hand slip inside his underwear, heard their sleeping bags rustle together as Buford rubbed up against his back. He could feel everything through the material and it was so humiliating that he felt tears well up in his eyes and wished the older man would stop. It seemed to go on forever. _

_When it was finally over he blamed himself for pretending to be asleep, for letting it happen. Bizarrely the thing he was most scared of was that Buford would know he'd been awake the whole time. He still didn't get exactly what Buford had done to him, but he already knew it was a secret he'd take to his grave. _

It had taken a few years before it occurred to him that Buford had spiked his lemonade with vodka. He was just a kid, he wouldn't have recognised the taste. And anything Buford gave him, he eagerly accepted. He wouldn't have complained if it had tasted off. All that time he'd thought it was his own fault for getting drunk, or for not wearing pyjamas. Not asking Buford to stop.

The man whose lap he was using as a pillow was stroking his face, and he could hear the murmur of voices in the background.

"Is he okay?" a vaguely concerned male voice asked.

"Yeah he's fine, just drunk as a skunk." The man laughed.

"Should we move him?"

"Nah just get him some water or something."

Morgan opened his eyes. He couldn't work out where the voice was coming from but he liked the sound of a drink of water. "Thank you." He mumbled to the considerate disembodied voice. It gave a benevolent chuckle.

"That's alright darling. You just go back to sleep."

"I wasn't asleep." He told the man who was still stroking his face.

"Weren't you?" the guy raised a pierced eyebrow and smiled, humouring him.

"No. I was pretending." He admitted.

"Why were you pretending to sleep?"

"I didn't know what else to do. But I didn't want that."

"Want what?" the guy asked, sounding lost.

For a while Morgan was silent. Then he said, "Stars are sad."

"That's nice." He lit up a cigarette and started smoking it.

"No…hey…I know I'm really drunk but I swear to you I'm not bullshitting, this is actual science okay? 'Cause the light takes so long to reach earth from space, that some of those stars up there will already have burned out by now. The ones we can see are just ghosts. Did you know that?" the guy didn't respond. Morgan poked at his chest to get his attention. "Hey…hey…did you know that?"

"Nope."

The guy didn't offer any further opinion on the matter. Morgan sighed and turned his head to the side, and wondered if the glass of water would materialise any time soon.

He could feel himself falling asleep again, and it scared the hell out of him because he knew what was waiting for him there. He couldn't fight it back anymore.

In his mind he watched the boy he used to be get slowly poisoned from the inside out by the man he'd trusted like a father. Over and over he watched back the nightmares, real and imagined, old and recent. He stopped struggling and for the first time in his life he looked directly at the things he was ashamed of.

And when he woke up he realised that there was nothing in there, nothing his mind could possibly throw at him that he would blame that boy for.

…

Young sat up groggily in bed and reached blindly for his phone which he'd forgotten to put on silent and had just received a text message. At _3am_.

"May whoever this is suffer the fiery wrath of Satan and all his-"

Young stopped as he saw the name 'Derek Morgan' flash up on the screen and in his still-half-asleep-and-dreaming-about-his-elementar y-school-sports-day-except-with-an-interesting-twi st-that-everybody-was-naked-and-the-principal-was- a-giant-squid state, his mind instantly jumped to the conclusion that his friend had got himself killed in a drunken car accident/bar brawl/ill-advised egg and spoon race, before he realised were that the case Derek probably wouldn't be the one texting to inform him of his own demise.

He opened the message. It said simply:

_You're hired._

He laughed.

…

At roughly 11:00 the following morning, Hotch put the phone down, stood up from his desk and went straight to Rossi's office.

Rossi looked up from the open files on his desk and was immediately worried. Hotch always looked serious, but not this serious.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Hotch closed the door behind him and walked up to Rossi's desk almost in a daze, holding his forehead between his thumb and index finger.

"I just got some very bad news." He said finally. "Remember that friend of mine I told you about, the one on the prosecution for the Faraday trial?"

"Yeah." Rossi frowned, his heart sinking. "What'd he tell you?"

Hotch sat down heavily in a chair.

"I have no idea how the hell he pulled this off, but Eric Faraday has been found innocent of all charges." He growled. "They're letting him out next week."

...

**DUN DUN _DUNNN_. **

**BEHOLD MY FIENDISH PLOT TWISTING WAYS. ****Okay yeah you probably all knew that was coming. xD ****Could not resist. There's no way any writer was ever going to let a plot device that big stay locked up in prison forever. ****So that means next chapter you get to laugh at me pretending to know a damned thing about how the legal system in america operates while I explain how Eric got out! xD yay!**

**Alas, here concludes the era of slutty misanthropic angstkitten Morgan. I will miss him ;-;**

**On the bright side next chapter heralds THE RETURN OF REID! **

**Buuut...I'm afraid there's a good chance it will be quite a long time until that's ready since I have my A-Level exams in like four/five weeks time *gulp* apologies. I am a total praise-whore though so I will be happy to accept if you want to try and bribe me into writing! :D **


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